Date: Sat, 5 Nov 2011 08:15:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann Subject: Teenaged Hustler 4 This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual places, persons, or events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit sexual activity between teens and adults. Be warned. If such activity offends you or if you are underage, please move on. TEENAGED HUSTLER by Macout Mann Chapter 4 Matt and Jim continued to sleep in the same bed more often than not. Matt's dad was a traveling salesman; and although his territory was not large, he was often away overnight. That was one reason he had wanted Jim to move in with him and Matt. When Si did spend the night at home, he often called on Jim to sleep with him; although, as time went by he occasionally found feminine companionship in bed. He'd been married for over sixteen years after all. But he continued to scrupulously avoid further sexual contact with his son. Jim worked construction, so neither man made real money. Financially too, the living arrangements proved very satisfactory. It was several days before Matt ventured down to the block again. School would start soon, however, so he thought he needed to make some cash as often as he could. It was about seven-thirty when he began his rounds. Almost immediately he noticed a large Mercedes Benz sedan slowly circle the block. It went around three times counterclockwise before disappearing, only to reappear moving in the opposite direction. Now it was on Matt's side of the street. On its second trip around it pulled to the curb right next to Matt, and the passenger side window automatically was rolled down. At the wheel Matt could see a well dressed man in his fifties with graying hair and steely eyes. "How much for all night?" the man asked. His voice was deep and very cultured. "All night for what?" Matt responded. "I'd like for you to spend the night with me," the man said. "How much?" Matt was more than taken aback. More like dumbfounded. But his brain went into high gear. On his best night, staying out six hours, he wouldn't make more than an hundred and a quarter to a hundred and fifty dollars. For all night you could double that. And even in the twilight Matt could tell this guy's suit was worth five or six hundred, and the fucking car was fifty or sixty thousand. So? While he was thinking, he asked, "Where abouts?" "My home," the man said. "You'll bring me back in the morning?" Matt asked. "Certainly," came the answer. "Five Hundred," Matt said, half expecting the man to laugh in his face. Instead, he heard "That's all right. Get in." "No," Matt said, "I'll need to call home and tell them I won't be back tonight. Meet me over there at that pay telephone booth." Matt quickly crossed through the block while the man drove around. He dialed home and told Jim he had an all night trick, gave him the license number of the Mercedes, and said if he wasn't home by the time Jim got in from work to start a manhunt. Then he slid into the Mercedes and the man took off. Looking at his uniform shirt, the man asked, "Is Dick your real name?" "It'll do," Matt replied. "Mine is Austin," the man said. "Austin Spangler." "You own the hotel?" Matt asked. "No, a chain owns it now. It was built by my grandfather, though. "How old are you, Dick?" "You don't wanna know." "Oh? Well, as long as you're willing, it doesn't really matter. I love young boys, though." Nobody said anything for several minutes. Then Matt said, "I haven't seen you before. Around the block, I mean." "I can't afford to be recognized. I'm also married. I just dropped my wife at the airport. She's gone to visit our daughter in England. I decided to take a chance just this once. I usually satisfy my need for young male companionship when I'm out-of-town on business. "I have some older friends I get together with, but it's not the same," he added. The car climbed the mountain that rimmed the city's western edge, passed the most important of the country clubs, and turned into Wordsworth Drive, probably the city's most prestigious address. Passing through imposing wrought-iron gates, Spangler activated the garage doors of the biggest house Matt had ever seen, and the car rolled to a stop inside. They passed down a long hall to a huge den with a fully equipped wet bar in the corner. "I'm having a martini," Spangler said. "You can have anything you want. Beer? Coke?" "I've never tasted a martini," Matt said. "What's it like?" "It's an acquired taste," Spangler responded, "but you're welcome to try it. If you don't like it, I'll fix you something else." "Well thanks, Mr. Spangler." "Please call me Austin," Spangler said. "O.K., Austin." Spangler mixed the martinis, stirred, not shaken, and the two of them sat down at a gaming table near the bar. Spangler was right, Matt thought, they were an acquired taste, stronger than the highballs his dad have given him, but not bad. "Wow, you can't have too many of these," he said. "Oh, I wouldn't let you do that," Spangler replied. "We wouldn't want to interfere with our other pleasures." They chatted about nothing in particular. The gin and vermouth warmed Matt and relaxed him. He couldn't get over the fact that Spangler hadn't overtly mentioned sex or touched him since they first saw each other. But he'd decided that for five hundred bucks he'd do whatever Spangler wanted, as long as he didn't get rough, and he didn't seem the type. They finished their drink. Matt wasn't offered a refill. Instead, Spangler said, "Let me show you my bedroom." They climbed a broad, circular staircase and entered a bedroom that could hold three of the bedrooms in Matt's house. "My wife and I sleep alone," Spangler volunteered. "We like it that way, at least I do." He carefully removed his coat and trousers and hung them in the closet. Hung his tie on a rack. Removed his silk shirt and tossed it into a clothes hamper. He still had on a white t shirt and boxers, when he turned to face Matt, who was standing by a chair still fully dressed. "May I undress you, Dick?" he asked. Matt thought "It's your nickel," but said, "Sure, Austin." Spangler unbuttoned Matt's grey work shirt as carefully as he had done his own. "Such a lovely chest," he whispered. And he removed the shirt and laid it on the nearby chair. He knelt and removed Matt's work boots and socks. And then, before taking off Matt's jeans, Spangler fondled his jewels for the first time. He was already hard. "Lovely," the older man said again. Spangler slowly opened Matt's fly and kissed the tip of his youthful dick. "So lovely. "Now, Dick, will you finish undressing me?" Matt pulled the t shirt over Spangler's head and pushed his boxers down his legs. His dick was hard too. About six and a half inches, not too thick. For fifty he was in good shape. A patch of graying hair covered his chest and formed a trail down to his nest, which was as hairy as any Matt had ever seen. Spangler stepped out of his crumpled shorts and took Matt in his arms, pulling him close. "Such a nice hard body," Spangler whispered. Then he kissed Matt full on the lips, forcing his tongue into the teen's mouth. Matt had never been French-kissed, thought it something hustlers didn't do, but he extended his tongue to Spangler in return. And they felt each other up for the longest time, until the older man drew the teen to his bed. He folded back the covers and urged Matt onto the sheets, softer than he'd ever felt before. Joining Matt on the bed, he said, "Dick, I want to suck you. I want your cum down my throat." Rather than immediately taking Matt's dick in his mouth, however, he smothered it in kisses, kissed Matt's pecs, sucked on his nipples, licked his abs. Matt somehow was pleasured in a way he'd never been before. And then Spangler took each ball sack into his mouth, rolling his tongue around each of the marbles inside. Finally, he slid his lips over the head of Matt's cut member, forced his tongue into the piss slit, and then took its whole length hungrily into his mouth. It was like he was addicted to dick. He treated it like a musical instrument, sensing Matt's every desire for sensual sensation. When Matt erupted, Spangler drank every drop of the teen's cream, then pulled him close and held him tightly, relishing the feel of the youngster's body against his. When he had climbed into the bed Matt was thinking, "Now I start to earn my money." Now he was thinking of nothing, just caught up in the ecstasy of the moment. Matt couldn't resist saying, "Man, that was something else." "I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Spangler responded. "You want me to suck you, Austin?" Matt asked. "Please," was the answer. Matt couldn't match the passion of Spangler's foreplay, but he did a better than usual job. And once he had Spangler's dick in his mouth, he was the practiced expert. Spangler's orgasm was plentiful for a fifty-year-old. It just didn't have the pungent taste of a younger man's. Again they cuddled. Silently. After twenty or thirty minutes, Spangler spoke. "I want you to fuck me now, please Dick." "You got lube?" "You want need any. Just use lots of spit." Matt put his lips to Spangler's rosebud and spit. He used his tongue to moisten the older man's ass, spit some more, and moistened his fingers, before thrusting them into Spangler's hole. Then the ladled spit onto his dick. "I want to see your face," Spangler said, rolling onto his back. Raising the older man's legs over his own shoulders, Matt penetrated Spangler with ease. He slipped all the way in, and began a slow and rhythmic fucking motion, watching the joyful expression on Spangler's face as he did so. He wasn't rough. He just adjusted his motions to the reactions of his partner, speeding up towards the end, shortening his strokes, and finally collapsing on Spangler's bod as his cum poured from his dick. Spangler didn't bother to go to the bathroom. He just pulled up the covers. The two of them drifted to sleep in each other's arms. Matt was waked before seven. Spangler said he had to go to the office, and they needed to get out of the house before the housekeeper arrived. They had a good breakfast, juice, bacon, Danish pastry, and coffee. Then Matt was told that he was going to be paid by check. "I know you expected cash," Spangler said, "but my check is good. Besides, you know who I am and where I live. I can't afford for it not to be good. "To whom do you want it made?" "Make it to Matt Edwards," Matt replied. "Matt's my real name." "Good to meet you, Matt," Spangler smiled. The business sized check for five hundred dollars was on the account of Spangler Industrial Enterprises and on the memo line was written "Acct. 344 Repairs and Maintenance." "This way our night together is also tax deductible," Spangler added. As they drove back down the mountain Spangler said his wife would be away for two weeks and he would like to get together again. "I thought your price was a little steep," he offered. "I don't mind paying five hundred or more if I'm in New York staying at the Waldorf, but this isn't New York, and you're not sharing your fee with the escort service. "Not that you weren't worth it. And somehow, I felt you were enjoying it as much as I was. "I won't drive around and pick you up again, but if you'll give me a number, I'll call you and make arrangements." "I'd really like that, Austin," Matt said. He'd given Spangler his address and soon the car rolled to a stop in front of the house on Fourteenth Street. Spangler handed a pad and a pen to Matt, who wrote down his name and telephone number. They shook hands, and Matt watched as Spangler's car headed on downtown. - - - - - - - - - Feedback is important. Please let me hear from you. macoutmann@yahoo.com Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.