THE TURN OF THE WHEEL

by Jimmy East


You will be so good as to believe me when I tell you that it was by
accident that I left my lighter in the car. I have done it before, and
I shall probably do it again. In the past it has been an accident, and
yesterday it was an accident. The future can take care of itself; I
just want you to know the truth about the past. It was also an accident
that I stopped by a figure standing under the station arch. I had not,
at this point, looked at him. At this point.
  "Do you have a match?" I asked.
  In a second he had it alight and was holding it just beyond the tip
of my cigarette.
  "How about my ass and your cock?" he enquired, deftly flicking the
flame into oblivion with a finger nail. That was the first moment I
looked at him.
  He was in his mid-teens, with long, dark hair lapping his shoulders,
and lazy, sulky eyes. He had caught his lower lip between his teeth and
stood smiling at me.
  (From now on you are entitled to blame me if you wish; I just wanted
to get the facts clear so far.)
  "How much?" I asked, my stomach heaving and my pulse breaking into a
sudden gallop.
  "A fiver?" he said with just a suggestion in the inflextion that
there might be room for bargaining. He lighted a second match. I took a
long draw at my cigarette and blew the smoke in a steady stream into
his face. He didn't flinch.
  "All right," I said. "Wait here. I've got a train to check."
  And this was true too. I strolled across to the departure board, took
a prolonged look at the platform number for the six-five, and sauntered
back. What I needed was time to think. At the game I was so
unexpectedly contemplating this kid was a professional and I was a
novice - and that called for thought. Supposing he had a spot of
blackmail in mind? Supposing his mates crashed in and did me over while
we were having it off? By the time I had reached the arch again I
dismissed the first and solved the second. It was a choice of risks. I
had noticed that he followed me discreetly into the station, but he was
back in position when I returned.
  "Think I was going for the fuzz?" I asked.
  "You might have been," he replied tersely.
  "Come on then," I said equally tersely. I got my car door open with
commendable speed, climbed in, unlocked the passenger door, and opened
the window. I knew there was going to be an argument and was determined
that I was going to win it. He leaned in at the window.
  "We can go to my place. It's just round the corner here."
  "I don't give a monkey's bollocks if it's a suite at the palace,
darling. You come with me or you fuck off back to the station." I was
pleased with that.
  He thrust two fingers under my nose and withdrew. I eased the car
from the kerb. Five yards later the door was flung open and he dived
in.
  "Christ, I thought you were going without me," he said.

  "I was. If you're going to play games with me for a fiver you'll do
it my way."
  "Okay," he said. It sounded a little more conciliatory. "What do you
want anyway?"
  "A suck," I answered firmly. I'm not sure that this was necessarily
true; I hadn't yet considered the possibilities. The important thing
was not to hesitate.
  "Right," he said, "a suck. It all costs the same."
  This genuinely surprised me. "Does it then," I said. "Maybe I'll
figure out some more."
  "Oh no you won't," he said. "Not now you won't. We've settled it."
  I let him have that one, and drove on for a while in silence. Then I
opened up again. "How old are you?"
  "Fifteen and a half."
  I took a quick glance at him, which he noticed.
  "What are you looking at?"
  "You. I thought maybe you were a bit younger."
  "Well I'm under age anyway aren't I? So you're stuck with that."
  "Oh sure", I said complacently. "I thought perhaps it might be half
price for juveniles."
  This time he looked at me - to see how to take it I suppose. Suddenly
he laughed. "You're a queer guy," he said.
  "It's just as well for you I am. When did you leave school?"
  "Last year," he replied airily. "I took nine O-levels then I fucked
off. All that stuffs no use if you want to make some bread."
  "I suppose not; but your good looks won't last for ever," I said.
  "Christ, I've got a few years to go yet I should hope."
  "I imagine you have. How much do you make a week?"
  "About sixty quid. I do a couple each evening with one off to go out
with my mates."
  "That's a lot of bread," I said. "What time do you expect to finish?"
  "That depends, doesn't it. Not every bastard wastes time whipping me
off in his car."
  I was regrettably warming to this kid. "Okay," I agreed. "I suppose
you're worth travelling expenses. We'll make it ten quid, then you
needn't be watching the clock at the evening. But you'd better be
good, boy. What's your name, by the way?"
  "George," he said, "and cheers. What's yours?"
  "John," I replied.
  "Christ, we sound like a couple of identikits." He laughed again.
  "That's right," I said. "And that's how it had better stay."

As I turned the car in at the gate I searched round for any signs of
activity outside the house. It would only need my parents to get back a
day early for me to have some explaining to do. All quiet. I was
getting jittery and that was something I had to suppress but now. We
went in and sat around for half an hour. I rolled up and we had a smoke
while George talked about his school - he seemed to feel easier on this
ground than talking shop. Then we went upstairs.
  In the bedroom I drew the curtains though it was still light. So this
was it - for the first time. I felt shamefully awkward. George was a
bloody attractive guy; all right, so he turned me on. But I didn't love
him; I didn't even know him, and that made it difficult to begin. The
vital thing was for me to keep control of the situation.
  "Right, shall I strip off?" George asked.
  "No, you can wait," I replied. I think I would have contradicted any
suggestion he could have made. I quickly undressed down to my briefs.
George began to do the same.
  "I said wait."
  "Bollocks," said George and flung his jacket over the foot of the
bed.
  So I jumped him. "Hey, fuck off," he yelled. But by this time he was
flat on his face on the bed. He kicked up his legs, and I caught one
and removed a shoe and a sock. Then I caught the other and did the
same. I was relieved to notice that his large feet were washed. I
turned him over, undid his belt and his zipp, jumped off, and stood
beside the bed. He leapt up and stood rather breathless in front of me
clutching his trousers.
  "You cunt," he said, grinning.
  I took his wrists and jerked them outwards so that his trousers
dropped down to his ankles. He tried to kick them off, stumbled, and
fell back on to the bed shaking with laughter. I jumped him again and
pulled his shirt up over his head and arms. The tufts of dark hair in
his arm-pits were thicker than I had expected perhaps he had not lied
to me about his age after all. He clutched at the shirt as it came off,
but I wrenched it free and threw it across the room. Once more we stood
up facing one another.
  For a few seconds now I could take stock of this boy. He was almost
as tall as I was and strongly built. I was five years older, so my body
was firmer; it was also furry with blond hair. I was slighter than
George, but more powerful than I looked. It was just as well. His
muscles were well defined - his arms rippled with the least movement; I
had already noticed the beautiful curve of his legs. His skin was
smooth and shining. We both had a stand under our pants - mine sticking
up under my diminutive white briefs, his sticking up under an equally
diminutive garment of yellow silk, with a red dragon leering out from
in front, its head absurdly pushed forward by his cook. Suddenly he
made a dive for my briefs, but I was expecting this and jumped
backwards. I pretended to clip his ear, and when he lifted his hands to
ward it off I whipped his down. His cock snapped into the air like a
jack-in-the-box. It was a bit shorter than mine, but maybe thicker, and
it was circumcised. Mine wasn't, but I quite liked it. There was a mass
of dark, curly hair above it, but none on his ball-bag. He kicked off
his briefs.
  "Okay," he said, "you won that lot. What now?"
  "Now on to the bed," I said.
  He jumped on to the bed and bounced the springs five or six times,
his cock flicking up into the air and back on to his stomach.
  "All right," I said, "quieten down."
  I stripped off my briefs carefully, letting my cock fall out. It was
fair effort to maintain some dignity under his watchful scrutiny.
  I lay down beside him, face to crotch. I ran my hands up and down his
legs - they were smooth one way, and just slightly rough the other.
God, they turned me on more than anything. I gently squeezed his tight
ball-bag, and nestled my nose between his balls and the base of his
shaft. Then I stroked his cock, and it gave a little nod of
acknowledgement. In inspected it closely. So often with circumcised
guys it was a bit rough behind the head, but his was perfect not a scar
to be seen, as if he had been born with it like that. I planted a line
of gentle kisses along it, starting from the base. As I neared the top
it gave a little bob each time; I touched the head lightly with my
lips, and it kicked up at my mouth. I repeated this, quickly opening my
lips to catch it as it jumped. Suddenly an involuntary convulsion shook
my body, and for the first time I became aware of what was happening at
the other end. George had my cock almost down his throat, and was
working away at it as if he was some starving kid at his mother's tits.
  "Wait a minute, George," I called out. He slid his eyes sideways to
look at me, but he went right on with his sucking. My legs stiffened
and my body jerked forward. At the same moment George threw his head
back letting my cock whip out of his mouth. With a sheer effort of will
I held back my orgasm and jumped furiously to my feet.
  "You bastard," I yelled. "You fucking little bastard."
  George sat up with a look of well-feigned surprise.
  "What's with you? he said. "I thought you'd come."
  "Oh no you bloody didn't," I screamed. "You thought I was just going
to and you weren't going to take it."
  George swung his feet across on to the floor. His cock stood straight
up, pointing at his navel. He sat for some seconds looking down at his
toes as he scratched them along the carpet. Then doggedly, sullenly, he
muttered, "Well, I didn't want your fucking spunk down my throat did
I?"
  "You didn't what?" I was beside myself with rage and frustration. I
seized the boy by the arm and flung him across the room; he banged his
back against the wall. I went after him, picked him up by the waist,
and threw him on to the floor. He made no attempt to resist, nor did he
try to get up. I straddled his body, pinning his arms to his sides with
my legs; only then did he begin to fight back. For a while he pushed
from side to side with his feet. Finding this ineffectual he cracked
his knees into my back - first one, then the other, then the first
again. I remained firm until he flung up his legs to try to dislodge me,
then I whipped them over his head. I pressed his toes into the carpet
and he screamed with pain.
  "Stop banging me with your knees then," I demanded.
  "Yes, all right," he shrieked. I pushed his legs back and he lay
still. My cock was limp by this time, but I took it in my hand and in a
matter of seconds I had it up again.
  "Now open your mouth," I said.
  "No I won't." He spoke very quickly and clamped his jaws shut. I
gripped the angles of his jaw with the thumb and middle finger of my
left hand and pressed with all my strength, moving into a kneeling
position as I reached the climax. I could hear his feet rubbing up and
down on the carpet as he strained to turn his head. He was watching my
cock with wide eyes which moved into a squint as I bent it down. At
that moment his jaws gave way and he screwed his eyes up. I got one
shot straight into his mouth before my left hand relaxed and his mouth
snapped shut. The rest was wildly out of control but I didn't care. One
lot hit his forehead and dribbled back into his hair, another caught
the side of his face and slid down to his ear. I put my hand under his
chin and shouted, "Now swallow, you little runt." His eyes opened again
and he shook his head. I pressed his jaw back until I thought his eyes
would pop out of their sockets. I held him in this position watching
his throat until I saw him gulp, then I relaxed. He lay quite still
staring at me with fury in his eyes.
  "Now you listen to me," I said.
  "I fucking won't. I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to
listen to anything." He continued to shout till I struck him over the
side of the face with the palm of my hand. For a moment he stopped
dead, then he started up again.
  "All right, fucking hit me," he screamed, "I won't listen..."
  This time I struck the other side of his face with the back of my
hand, and rather harder than I had intended. His head snapped to one
side and remained still. There was a quick intake of breath, and a tear
coursed across the bridge of his nose. His face creased, and for
perhaps a quarter of a minute he sobbed uncontrollably. Then he shook
his head to clear his eyes and looked straight up at me.
  "You needn't have done that," he said sulkily. "You hurt me."
  "I meant to hurt you. Now will you listen to me?"
  He said, "Yes." It was the voice of defeat giving the very minimum of
required submission. By now I had recovered my composure; but I was
determined to say what I had to say.
  "Right, George. You're going to claim ten quid from me and you've
cheated me. To cheat a guy at that moment is bloody awful; it's also
bloody dangerous. This time you've taken a beating and you've been made
to cry. One day you'll get your bollocks kicked in and you'll be out of
a job for life. So it's bad business too. Do you understand?"
  "All right." Again it was a tip in the smallest possible coin.
  I climbed off him and immediately he jumped to his feet, wiping his
face with the back of his hand. I was amazed to notice that he still
had an erection.
  "You bloody wait," he said truculently. "Tomorrow morning I'll bring
my bloody mates and they'll fucking do you."
  This was a time to keep calm.
  "You do just that," I said. "I'll line them up over that bed and fuck
them silly one by one before I go down to breakfast."
  "I'd like to fucking see you," he challenged.
  "So you shall, Georgie boy. I'll tie you to the bed-post first and
you'll have a front stall view of it all."
  Then he rushed me. This time he did take me by surprise and we both
went down and rolled over on the toor. I pinned his arms above his
head, and knelt on them, facing his body. As before his legs came up; I
held them, forced them back over his head, and carefully placed my own
legs on the outside of his ankles, with his wrists trapped under my
feet. Then I squatted down, holding his legs in the crook of my knees.
  "You just don't know when you're beaten, do you?" I said.
  George didn't reply. He was trying everything to gain his release.
But the contrast between the boy's huge muscular efforts and the minute
movements they produced was almost pathetic; in this position these
movements were also terrifyingly provocative. I could feel the tension
of his calf muscles under my knees; his outstretched arms rippled; the
muscles of his thighs and buttocks were stiffening and relaxing; the
anus spasmodically opened and closed as if it were winking. His cock
swung from side to side over his chin like a great pendulum, the balls
clinging tight at each side of the thick shaft. The excitement it
stirred in me was almost unbearable - yet something held me back. It
was, if I may so put it, a pemerse morality, some innate sense of
justice; this boy had taken what I had to give, and now it was his
turn.
  I held his cock steady and began to rub it. Immediately he doubled
his effort, struggling and heaving. His balls almost disappeared from
view into his body: I could just make out the bulge on each side at the
point where the dark curls began to spring from the crotch. His
buttocks seemed to rise in the air as his cock became fully rigid; the
head swelled until it was shining like a tight red plum. At the moment
when I felt the rush of his release under my hand I gripped his hair to
hold his head still. He started to shriek "No!", but the word petered
out into a long-drawn "Ah!" as the full force of the first squirt hit
the roof of his mouth. I could feel his cock leaping in my hand, but I
held it firm as it discharged three explosive volleys into his throat.
I saw the white fluid churning in his mouth as he gargled it back. The
fourth was weaker and splashed on to his chin. I thought he was going
to choke and got off him again. He shot his legs forward and rolled
over on to his stomach, coughing and spluttering. Then he lay still. I
started to dress. Next time I looked at him he was quite calm, lying on
his side tracing the pattern on the carpet with his finger. A white
blob on the floor was attached to the end of his cock by a fine thread.
He looked down at it, then casually squeezed his cock and gave it a
shake. Then he stood up.
  "You had better go and have a wash," I said. He nodded, and I showed
him to the bathroom. He came back and dressed without a word. I handed
him his tenner which he snatched from me, and we went downstairs. I
opened the front door.
  "Aren't you going to give me a lift back?" he asked.
  "No", I said. "You can afford the train fare now."
  "You're a turd," he said, and spat. It was not a good shot at so
short a distance; it landed on the back of my hand. I looked at it
diffidently and said, "It's only spit. You should have thought of doing
that a few minutes ago."
  He turned and trode to the gate. It was not yet dark. I closed the
door and ran up to my bedroom to watch him. I could tell that he knew I
was there by his self-conscious walk. At the corner he stopped and
turned. Even at this distance I could see the flash of his teeth as he
grinned at me. Then he waved his hand, and jauntily turned the corner.

Next day I caught an earlier train so I didn't see him. It was the same
on the way back. In fact it was not till three months later that I was
at Victoria again in the evening. It would be ridiculous to say that I
had forgotten him; it was merely that I was pre-occupied as I entered
the station. Suddenly a voice from behind me said, "Where's the Bentley
then?"
  I turned round. "Hullo, George", I said. "How's life?"
  "Okay," he said with an air of indifference. "They've got nothing on
you - none of them. Man, you were powerful."
  I don't think I can reliably define my reaction. It may have been
horror; there was certainly amazement.
  "What on earth do you mean?" I said.
  He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Just what I say, I suppose.
I know one thing though: I'd go through that lot again for free any
time you like."
  My brain was seething, but outwardly I remained cool. "You keep to
your price, boy. I expect you're worth it to some poor sod."
  "But not you?" I swear there was a touch of disappointment in his
voice.
  "Well what do I get out of it?, I said. It was hardly an honest
question.
  He cocked his head on one side. "Sorry, Johnno," he said. "Look, next
time I promise I'll do it right for you. Then you'll have to find
something else to tit me about." He grinned, a little nervously I
thought. I sensed that the wheel was turning, and I was tied to it,
helpless.
  "I'm going away for a couple of days," I said. "I'll see you when I
get back. Okay?"
  "Okay, Johnno," he said. He looked hard at me, and there was doubt in
his eyes. Then for the second time he caught his lower lip between his
teeth and smiled. Jesus he was fascinating. And he knew it. I made my
way to the barrier and turned back. He was still watching me. He waved
and blew a kiss. In some embarrassment I turned and climbed into the
last compartment of the train. But it was irresistibe. I lowered the
window and looked out. He was still standing there, but at that moment
a man stopped beside him. As the train moved out I saw the sudden
flicker of a match. For a second it burned brightly; then, just as
suddenly, it was extinguished.