Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2016 02:46:14 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Mom's New Apartment

                       MOM'S NEW APARTMENT
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I found the place and groaned. I knew Mom was low on cash since Dad
passed away, but this! The building was one of those you see every so
often, made of old red bricks that are chipped and weathered so that the
entire building looks ready to crumble into dust any minute. The window
sashes were equally old, of painted wood that had failed over time to
protect the wood so that it was cracked and splintering. The windows
themselves looked okay, either newer additions or simply that glass doesn't
weather away as much as other things, or maybe that they'd simply been
cleaned more often. Who bothers to scrub a brick wall, after all?
     Inside the elevator was out of service (of course) and I had to walk
up the two sets of stairs, which were large and made of ornate
stained-walnut (a staircase!), past walls that were thickly painted but
still off-color, covering decades of sin and misery, no doubt.
     Mother's apartment was one dark door just like the rest, I looked at
the note and then at the door. I didn't want to knock on the wrong
apartment in this place!
     But it was hers and she called out, "Who's there?"
     "It's me, Mom! Brian!" I called back.
     "Brian! Oh, oh, just a minute!"
     I stood there for nearly two minutes before she finally
answered. "Come on in, baby! I'm making your favorite dinner!"
     Dinner? That hadn't been part of the deal! "I can't stay that long,
Mom. It's...it's a long drive back to my house."
     Mom didn't listen, of course. My own fault, I should have come by in
the morning. She could have made me lunch, that way and then I could have
begged off about four in the afternoon and gotten my ass out of there. But
no, I'd waited and tried to get to her at one o'clock, but in fact got here
after two o'clock, so she was expecting me to spend a half dozen hours, I
was stuck there until the evening.
     Well, no choice but to suck it up and live with it. I plastered a
smile on my face and let Mom regale me with stories about people in her
life that I didn't know and didn't care about interspersed with relatives
that I hadn't seen in over twenty years. I didn't begrudge her this,
though, honest! Mom was the one who did without so we kids could have a
better life, so now that she was getting older and not quite "on the beam,"
I wasn't going to not be there for her. Mom would live in this place for
maybe a half dozen years, then it was the nursing home unless they set up
home care for her. But she refused to come live with me or Kimberly, so
what else could we do but spend alternate weekends visiting her and making
sure she had everything she needed.
     I managed to get out of her apartment at eight o'clock and walked out
the door. Stood there, puzzled, looked one way and then the other. Which
fucking way did I come in?
     No choice but to take off walking down the corridor and figure it out
from there. I picked the most likely direction and took off. This place
wasn't a maze, I could work my way back to the staircase, go down two
flights and that ought to aim me at the front door.
     Hmm, I didn't remember this turn. And the long corridor beyond
it. Hell, a lot of these apartments had a central area, and the corridor
would go all the way around, that must be it. So I kept walking.
     Ah, a set of stairs. Not the right set of stairs, a metal set behind a
closed door, but they went down and that was good enough for me. I went
down two flights and tried to get out. And couldn't, realized what I'd
done. Shit! I'd gone into one of those fire exits, the doors let you go in
but not out! Only way out was the exit to the building; I'd have to go on
down and out a back door, probably set off an alarm in the process and
maybe pay a fine. Why do they let you go inside those doors and not let you
go out? I answered it for myself without thinking, because if you could get
in through these doors, a burglar would make it his personal highway. So,
at least I knew my position now.
     Down a short corridor was another set of stairs going down. I didn't
remember the building being on a slope but maybe that was it.
     But no, I ended up in the basement of the building! Shit! Dark as hell
and I still didn't see a way out!
     A light in one direction. Only way to go, though. Maybe it was at the
door to the outside.
     The light belonged to a man sitting on a stool watching a small
television set, the television and the yellowish lightbulb over his head
was the light I'd seen. The man turned his head to look my way. "Who the
hell are you?"
     By now, I was ready to throw myself on his mercy. "I'm sorry!" I said
to him. "I came here to visit my mother and I got lost. Can you show me how
to get out of here?"
     He got to his feet and I got a good look at him. My God, a big
bastard! Older than me by a decade at least (he was in either his late
thirties or early forties), but nothing soft about him at all. A small
beer-belly ruined what was otherwise a bodybuilder body, with large chest,
large bulges of muscles on his shoulders, biceps, pecs, he looked like he
could lug about two hundred pounds and not break a sweat. His hair was
black and not neatly cut or combed (I think he did it himself) and hung
like an overused still-damp mop on his head. His mustache was bushy and not
neat, either. He stood, wiped his lips on the back of one forearm (the
other hand held a beer can) and he growled, "You look like a faggot!"
     I was suddenly painfully aware of how I was dressed. The day had been
rather warm so I'd opted for a short-sleeved t-shirt, light green, over a
pair of shorts, dark red. I wasn't a weakling but next to him I looked both
small and puny, for I was a half-dozen inches shorter than him and a
hundred pounds or more lighter. And besides, I was gay so instead of lying
to him, I said, "I don't see what that has to do with anything. Can you
show me how to get out of this place?" I paused, then added, "Please?"
     He looked me over again, rather like you examine a cut of steak at the
supermarket where you aren't sure you want to buy it, but there isn't
anything better on the shelf, so you look at it, weighing your options (you
don't want to eat chicken all week long, maybe eat some pork chops instead
this time around?), then he said, "Come with me."
     I followed him toward the front of the apartment building (I guess
that was the direction, I was totally turned around by this time) and we
came to a door. "In here." he told me, and held the door open.
     I got inside, he followed and flipped the light switch, and I got a
good look at where I was and stopped in my tracks. What the hell? I saw a
bed, if you call a mattress covered with a quilt and held off the floor
who-knows-how, unmade and rumpled, with a pillow (no pillowcase) at one
end, next to it a milk crate held a small wind-up alarm clock and a
magazine with a naked woman on the front (not Playboy or Penthouse or such,
but some name I'd never heard before and don't remember now), and nothing
else. "This...this isn't the way out." I said stupidly.
     "Sure it is." He said. I turned to look at him and he went on, "I'll
take you out right after you suck my dick."
     "Right after I what?" Okay, I was acting like I had an IQ barely above
zero, but put yourself in my spot. I'd gone from visiting my mother to
being in a ratty room with a big bruiser that wanted me to suck his cock in
about three minutes.
     "You're going to suck my dick." He told me. "Then I'll take you
upstairs and unlock the door to the ground floor." That delivered like you
explain a chore to a child.
     "I...I don't want to suck your dick!" I burst out.
     He stepped toward me and I stepped back, another step forward by him,
another one back by me. "I wasn't asking you." He said and with his third
step, and mine, I ran into the edge of his bed.
     Oh, shit! I was locked in this guy! Fucking locked in!
     He went toward me again and I fell back onto the bed. Scared as shit
and he was working his hands at his jeans. I scrabbled backwards, looked at
the door behind him. No real room to get around him, I'd have to basically
run under his armpits to get away.
     Play along, I decided. If I could get him to lie down on the bed, then
I could try to run away. Back up the stairs, hell, maybe if I kept going
up, I could get onto the roof. What I'd do after that, I hadn't considered,
but there ought to be some way down from there, right? Besides this one set
of stairs?
     He got his cock out of his pants and came at me on the bed just like
that. No removal of other clothes, not even pulling down his pants, just
unzip, take out his cock and he was aiming it at me.
     Oh, my God, the size of him! It was shaped like a fat banana, the
middle of the shaft was the widest part, the glans tapered down to a blunt
point, the entire thing bowed upwards and slightly to the right, the entire
thing was uncut, the tip of the glans showing as a small circle inside the
foreskin, the slit dividing it in the middle more than halfway across. The
entire thing was a dark gray-brown, and the glans-circle a paler, redder
color.
     And my hope of escape died when he crawled on top of me and sat on my
chest. I wasn't going anywhere. His weight was more than enough to pinion
me. "Here it is." He ordered. "Get to sucking it, faggot!"
     Okay, my escape plan didn't change, it just had to be modified. If I
acted willing, he would maybe relax, decide he'd prefer to be lying on the
bed instead of perched on my chest, and then I could escape as before. So
like it or not, my revised plan required me to start sucking on it.
     I lifted my head tentatively and he grunted in frustration, his hams
of hands caught hold of my head and pulled me forward and with my mouth
open, his cock was driven into my mouth. I'd worked up some saliva, but not
enough, and this huge pud soaked up my spit in no time and remained a hard,
warm, dry piece of meat in my mouth. That didn't slow this guy down at all,
he began to immediately start thrusting his hips, while his hands forced me
to dive toward his thrusts, and the result drove that hard pud deep into my
mouth and throat. If I hadn't been a relatively experienced cocksucker
(though before always by choice!), I would have gagged in no time. As it
was, it was uncomfortable as hell, but I was able to hold on and deal with
it.
     Get him into it, make him relax his guard, then he'd start thinking
about how nice it is to lie back on the bed and let the cocksucker work him
over.
     So I got more spit worked up and with his cock beginning to get
greased, I began to ply my skill on him.
     He noticed my actions, "Yeah, I knew you were a faggot the minute I
saw you." He grunted. "You like this hard dick, don't you, faggot?"
     "Mm-hmm!" I grunted while not letting up on his cock.
     "You want more of this cock?"
     "Mm-hmm!"
     "Want me to give it to you?"
     "Mm-hmm!" I was concentrating on sucking him, and didn't take note of
what he was saying. It wasn't that information anyhow, as you can see.
     So I found out what I'd just agreed to the hard way when he let go of
my head and pulled his now-wet cock out of my mouth. He got up and for one
second I though my chance was coming. Then he said, "Okay, then, let's give
it to you!"
     I knew then I was screwed. Or about to be! "Oh, no, no!" I gasped out
and tried to squirm away. He caught me easily. What happened next was a
confused mess as I tried to get away and he worked, with rather more
success, in stripping my shorts and briefs off of me. He didn't bother with
my sneakers or my t-shirt, just peeled me bare in the spot that made the
most difference. I ended up on the bed, face down and he was above me, and
again, I was in a spot that my only choices were to help him fuck me or
fight him and get fucked anyway.
     Call me a coward, but I chose the first option. Better to get a cock
in you while you assist it than to have it shoved in as hard as I was sure
he'd do it.
     "Okay, I give up." I told him. "Just take it easy, will you?"
     "Okay, I'll put more spit on it." he said and I heard the sound of a
man hawking and spitting. Then his tool was driving between my buttocks and
I felt the impact at my sphincter. Once in position, he gave a hard shove
and I howled!
     "Owwww-owwww-oohhhhhh!"
     "Ahh, shut the fuck up!" He snarled at me, annoyed. "I ain't hurting
you that much!"
     "It hurts, it hurts!" I countered.
     "So work your damned ass and get used to it!" he ordered. "And be
damned quick about it."
     He held still, and I realized he expected me to "get used to it" while
he waited. I did what I could, flexing my buttocks and moving about as best
I could. It did some good, but not enough, and he got tired of waiting and
started fuck at my butt.
     I groaned, but muffled my cries as best I could. In part because it
didn't do any good, in part to deny him the privilege of knowing he was
hurting me.
     The thrusts of this big man on top of me was like being fucked by a
horse. Large, muscled, mindless and unfeeling, his massive man-missile
drove into me and pulled out again in increasingly faster thrusts. His
grunts were those of a pig, of a beast, of an animal rutting without regard
for its mate. I was in a dingy basement bedroom of some sort, being fucked
by the janitor or whoever the fuck this guy was, and my own mother didn't
even know where I was! I didn't know my ravisher's name! All our contact
had been cock to my mouth, and now to my ass, and his hard, cruel hands
forcing me to move to his needs.
     There is a bestial part of our brains that kicks in at a time like
that, I guess. I could have stayed outraged and offended at my treatment
but for its actions. The smells of that foul mattress and unwashed quilt,
the odor of stale sweat and fresh sweat as he dripped it onto me, the reek
of stained mattress ticking and rotting cotton padding, the fetid air of
this dank, too-warm basement retreat, all worked on me and I suddenly
turned bestial myself.
     I began to hunch back against him, helping him to fuck me. Moving to
make his pleasure my own. My cock hardened, pulsed, throbbed on the
polyester material of the quilt beneath me, and I was ready to add my own
stains to its abused surface.
     "Yeah, faggot, you like having a man's cock up your ass, don't you?"
     "Yeah, come on, harder, harder." a voice I hardly recognized answered
him. Stranger in that room. My own!
     "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you!"
     "Come on, is that all you got? Fuck me harder, you asshole!" I growled
back at him. "You getting too old to fuck the right way on me? Come on, ram
me, give it to me, give me all you got!"
     "Fucking cunt!" He panted. "Goddamned pansy, wants my come, does he?"
     "Yeah, give it to me!"
     "Here it is, you queer, here it is! Ah-huh-uh-GUHHHHH!"
     I felt the hot sting of his spunk as it pumped into my ass and he was
sweating, writhing, moaning on top of me and I closed my eyes, gritted my
teeth and my own climax struck. Groaning through my clenched jaws, I
ejaculated all over myself and his bedcovers as he finished, his hips
thrusting desperately at my ass, and then he stopped and fell onto me, his
weight crushing me down and I finished my last feeble jets with his body
pinning me tight under him.
     "Yeah, damn, fucking shit!" He mumbled.
     "Lousy fucking freak!" I grumbled back at him. "I just wanted to get
out of here and you fuck my ass? Well, you fucked me, now get your damned
butt off of me and show me the way out!"
     "Hmph!" He lay there a bit longer, and then he said, "Well, all
right. Come on, faggot, I'll let your pansy ass out of here. And next time,
don't take these stairs. They're for maintenance only."
     "How the hell was I supposed to know that." I countered. "I never been
here before."
     "Only stairs for tenants except in emergencies is the front stairs."
     "So show me the front stairs."
     He led me back to the staircase I'd used, took me up the one flight,
then unlocked the door and said, "Now get the fuck out of here."
     "I'm leaving." I said and I got out of there and was back in that
interminable corridor. I walked around it, though and on the opposite side
of the building from the stairs I'd used before, I found the big staircase
I'd take up to see my mother.
     I got the fuck out of there and figured that was the end of it. Two
weeks later, it was time for me to visit my mother again and I damned well
set it up for a mid-day visit. Got there at nine thirty, let her feed me a
too-big lunch and by three I was ready to get out of there.
     And waiting in the corridor was the same big man. "There you are!" he
said to me. "I've been waiting out here for a fucking hour."
     "For what?"
     "For you." he said. "Now come on."
     He started to lead me away and when I stayed put, he stopped and
turned around. "Come on, faggot. You know the way now, don't you?"
     He wasn't leading me toward the front stairs. He was leading me back
the way I'd gone last time, the one that ended up with me in his basement.
     And after a moment, I started following him. I still had plenty of
time to get home before dark. And as long as I had to visit Mom in this
place, I might as well enjoy the visit.

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM