Bentley was spinning his wheels again. His bearings were shot. He grumbled against the streaming late afternoon sun as he lifted his bicycle back up and hauled it along beside him down the road toward Spokes. Damn, he’d be late for work again. It had been bad enough getting in trouble for not having his homework done on time, and now this. Like always, he escaped into his daydreams.
Boys cracking up together out in the high school parking lot. Boys cracking to the bat and sending a homer out into the sky. Boys cracking nuts under the cover of a steamy gym shower. Boys.
He shook his brains awake
grabbed an order of chili fries for the kid waiting at the counter.
It was close to seven and time for his break,
but there were still several hours to go.
Heading off to the dim, detached restroom out at the edge of the
checked again. Dammit, someone had smudged
it up a little. He had even tried to
clean it up himself as best he could whenever this happened, and he
best to help again. He loved that
drawing, a finely-detailed pencil sketch of a long, thick dick on the
above the second of the two urinals. The
weak bare bulb cast the thing in a perfect dirty glow.
And beneath, so different from the careful
artwork, he searched for the gears chaining the drawing to the harshly
words below: show it and get it. Then
mind drizzled off into the hottest guys who’d hung at Spokes awhile
off the rim
again, fuckers; they should have me in the fuckin’
X-Games.” “Shit, check it out – she’s
got me soppin’ my shorts here.” “Bailed on her, bro, but I’m gonna bust my crank
off if I don’t get some soon.”
Handing back change to
the boy who’d
bought the shake, Bentley glanced up at the clock overhead.
A little past ten. Not
much longer to go. Then, drowning out the
slam of the old
register drawer, a sound howled toward him like the roar of a wild
animal. And it was.
It was Kraze.
No one really knew what
the hell the
thing was. Though it couldn’t possibly
be true, legend said it was carefully crafted together from all kindsa
part Harley, part Suzuki, part Yamaha – fuck, maybe even part Beamer
they knew, though no one really knew anything about it.
But the bike was unmistakable, and so was the
The stick kicked down
gravel. A boot flipped a small rock up
an inch or two and then flicked it off again into the night.
With a quick zip down, the front of the faded
brown bomber jacket slid apart as Kraze stood tall and slim, stretching
and wide, his tight chest revealing yet another Kraze-amazin’ t-shirt:
FUCK UP AND JUST BLOW ME. Where the hell
did he find those things?
Bentley stared silently
plate windows while the few late-evening stragglers outside paused,
along inwardly, moved to the crunch beneath the boy’s hard heels.
He strode right past the front of Spokes and
off toward the can. No one could see,
but every ear followed as its door whipped open and, seconds later,
scrambled around the side into the soft light of the lot, skidding back
He’d dropped out only a
back, right in the middle of World Geography: “this is just a fuckin’
joke.” But you could still see Kraze
around campus most times – back behind some trees whispering something
a hidden face; hanging off the top of the chain links as he watched the
practice baseball; a silent shadow near the Science Building, as his
flicked his lighter and ignited a Camel.
It was rumored that the school had talked to his parents, but
didn’t know what to do with him either.
They just gave him the privacy of their basement and hoped for
so everyone said. Bentley could only
remember one thing for sure,
and even that was a couple years old now:
the fuck are you lookin’ at, ya
A thin, straight stream
of smoke squirted
right into the middle of the no-smoking sign as the butt crushed
the floor and the deep brown eyes stared emptily at Bentley. His long, slender, grimy fingers slid casually
the slightly shaggy dark hair, then down along the pale skin of the
Kraze stepped forward toward the counter.
Bentley couldn’t help it.
His eyes dropped to the front of the
thin-legged jeans and zoomed in to a large lump off the side of the
mass of it slightly frayed as if the length of a heavy pipe in there
rubbed up and down countless times through the denim.
When Bentley’s eyes jumped back up, a hard
look was drilling straight through them to the back of his skull, and
just the faintest smirk in the finely chiseled face that now stared him
down. Bentley looked quickly away.
Kraze closed in. Long,
slender fingers, greasy from who
what, settled on the low counter, the dirty nails tapping slowly and
the big, soft bulge hooked nastily up over the counter’s edge.
“So. . . . How
‘bout a cheeseburger, uh . . . ‘Bentley’?”
came a deep, calm voice, as Kraze looked back up from the nametag.
Those eyes looked like they knew exactly the
stuff Bentley fantasized about in his bed every night.
“Uh. . . .
Um. . . .
“Well, not now. . . . Maybe
later, though.” The
smirk just slightly widened, the bulge
pressed just a bit more over the counter, and there seemed almost the
dark laugh as Bentley turned quickly to relay the order to the manager
As Bentley wrapped the
bagged it, he heard a small splatter of coins on the floor behind him
to find that Kraze had turned away and was bent down at the waist,
them up. The bomber jacket had lifted up
a couple inches, the tight little butt aimed up through the faded jeans.
Kraze slowly pulled back up and turned to the
counter. He dropped the coins into the
rest of a pile of change in front of Bentley as he grabbed the bag,
look into the kid’s brain and said, “thanks.”
Then he spun on a heel and headed away, kicking the door open
Through the glass,
remained fixed on the boy as he climbed aboard his bike.
Kraze sat there alone and stared around him while
eating his burger. In a minute, he
crushed the bag and hurled a perfectly centered shot into a barrel of
trash. The engine roared to life.
He paused, gave a sharp look through the
window, then tore out of the lot.
little fuck. Look at it
good. C’mon ‘n grab it through my jeans
down there. I know ya wanna.
C’mon, ya little fuck. Feel it up.
Feel it up like the other boys do.
“Beat it, Bentley,”
manager while pausing with the broom.
“You’ve got class tomorrow, and I need you longer tomorrow night
anyway. I have to leave at closing, and
you’ll be on
your own cleaning and locking up.”
Bentley nodded and
grabbed his thin
jacket. He was anxious to get home, get
to his bedroom, pull it out and relieve himself. Out
in the lot, though, he stared at his worn
bicycle and dreaded the long walk dragging it home.
He’d be walking back and forth to work until
he could get his bearings. He lifted the
bike slightly off the ground and watched the wobble as he spun the
backward this time. With a heavy sigh,
he decided on a quick whizz before
c’mon, ya little
ready for ya. Get yer hands down there
and mess with me. Lemme get a feel offa
Bentley didn’t hear the
but he knew the sound now approaching him.
He could hear the heavy boots sliding forward through the gravel
the little head. The door creaked open
wide. The dim bulb illuminated the face
emerging from the dark night outside. And
there was Kraze. He strode in
confidently past the small, old pedestaled sink and right on up to the
urinal beside Bentley. There was a long,
slow zip and then the sound of a hard stream.
“’Skuze me,” muttered
Kraze, as his right
arm moved up past Bentley’s face and a freshly sharpened pencil fixed
of the drawing above his head.
Then he was gone.
Kraze, yeah. Yeah, that’s
it. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna shoot it.
Oh fuck, I want you so bad.
A few of the guys nodded
Bentley from the open bay of auto-shop class as he passed them on his
the main building. A couple of the heads
turned from the clustered baseball team and followed him as he climbed
steps toward the front door. And some
guy on the student council stared silently as he walked by.
But Bentley didn’t notice.
His mind was wheeling. He whiffed a
drift of cigarette smoke and absently
wondered who would have been crazy enough to do that right here.
Just inside the threshold, a couple of stoner
types who were slumped in a corner whispered to each other and smiled
up at him
as they watched him trudge on down the hallway, lost in his dreams.
little fuck. Been
watchin’ a long time. Been wantin’ ya
bad, and now I’m gonna getcha.
Bentley was sitting alone
side of a small glade, back behind the benches where the other kids
lunch. Off at an angle, he caught some
movement at the shaded corner of the nearby gym. Seconds
later, the wiry shortstop of their
City High team peeked around again and stumbled out slightly, his hair
face flushed, half of his shirt yanked out of his pants.
Bentley watched, mystified, as the boy
beckoned to a teammate who slipped his way over there, stealing glances
his shoulder in case anyone was looking.
The shortstop suddenly
saw Bentley. It looked almost as if he’d
or even half-grinned before he disappeared again behind the gym.
A grip of long, slender fingers grabbed the
arriving boy by the arm and dragged him around the corner, too.
Bentley looked downward
his sandwich on its wrapper. Why didn’t he have buddies in the cool crowd? And
what the hell was that look? Were those
back there making fun of him?
I mean, you
know how it is, if your one of the shy types, right?
You can’t figure out what stuff means
sometimes. And how are you supposed to
act? What are you supposed to say that’s
quewel enough to get yourself a set of buddies?
And, most important, how in hell do you get a boy you like to
you? Or worse – overcome the queezies
and know how to respond if he actually starts givin’ you
some signals? If they are
signals. Life’s a bitch.
It was even worse,
Bentley. He knew exactly what he wanted,
exactly who he wanted it with. And he
knew exactly that he didn’t have a chance.
He drifted into pictures
of the boys
sharing secrets until their faces fuzzed out of focus, again to be
a tall, pale biker boy. Damn: no matter
the drawing – there’s no way he could ever nail a boy like Kraze.
fucker, yer wrong
about that – wantcha real bad. An’ my
buddies think yer hot, too. Everyone
thinks yer hot, Bentley. Everyone. C’mere.
It was getting near
and Spokes was almost empty now. Suddenly,
like a wild searchlight, a beam shot through the windows, directly into
Bentley’s eyes, as the bike snarled into the lot, stopping right in
Kraze burst through the
then stopped there. No Kraze-amazin’
t-shirt this time. The boy was
bare-chested beneath the bomber jacket, but his eyes shot into Bentley
hard as the night before. There was only
a tiny swirl of dark hair at the center of his chest between the sleek,
pecs, and there was just the thinnest line of dark fuzz traveling from
navel toward his jeans. Kraze scratched
at a stiff tit as he approached the counter.
“Bentley, you need to get
meat,” came the manager’s voice. “I’ll
take the front awhile and you cook while I get ready to leave.”
He glanced up. There was only that
faint smirk at the edge
of Kraze’s lip as Bentley surrendered the counter and headed into the
When he returned with a
the freezer, Kraze was staring at the reflections in the windows up
front. The boy stretched up slowly, his
rising, the band of a pair of gray-checked boxers sticking up from
tight jeans, hugging his bare back.
Bentley couldn’t be sure, but he felt as if their eyes met in
for a second before he quickly looked back down to the fiery grill.
He grew distant in his
the meat cooked, but when he looked back up, Kraze was staring right
back as it echoed out of the past—
fuck are you
Bentley was looking at
the drawing, trying
to look between the lines.
He’d finished locking up
shutting down the lights to the lot. And
now he stood there under that single dim bulb in the head.
He never even heard the boots this time,
never even heard the creak of the door.
Kraze stood staring at
tossed the butt of his Camel into the sink.
“So ya gonna show it or
He took a step toward
Show it ‘n get it.”
He took a step again.
“I know ya want it.”
Another step closer.
“You been checkin’ me out
Bentley backed into the
wall as Kraze
pressed his chest against him and leaned in close.
Was he wearing Cool Water?
“Relax, man,” Kraze
whispered. “It’s all cool.
C’mon, we’re gonna have a good time here.”
He backed off just
followed Bentley’s eyes down to his crotch.
“Yeah, jus’ look at it
first. Jus’ look at the thing.
You want dick, don’tcha? Want
He guided Bentley’s hand
to the lump
in his jeans and pressed the boy’s palm against it firmly.
“That whatcha want? Huh?
to me, man. Don’t look so fuckin’
scared.” He pulled the hand more tightly
around the big lump, squeezing the tremble out, bending in the kid’s
to scrape over the denim. “Mmmm.”
What the fuck? The
boy was being so cool to him.
Bentley looked up. “I’ve never. . .
Don’t worry about it. Trust me.”
He moved the boy’s hand around over the mass of meat, and
it filling out and traveling down into the leg of Kraze’s jeans.
With his other hand, Kraze unbuttoned his fly
and slowly slid his zipper all the way down.
He pressed the hand harder against the opening flaps.
He reached over to
Bentley now and
fumbled with the boy’s own fly, opening it slowly, then letting go of
hand and gripping him at the waist.
“Nothin’ to be afraid of,
man. This ain’t no mindfuck.”
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled
Bentley’s pants down, down to his knees. He looked over the stiff
poking the boy’s briefs out, so hard the waistband was pulling away
stomach, the tent straining out into the air.
Kraze shucked the fuckers
right on down
the kid’s thighs.
His fingertips gently
Bentley’s teeming balls. “These things
sure are swollen, fucker. You need to
get yer tubes cleaned.”
His fingers moved up to
boner now and hefted it in his hand.
he whispered, as he pulled the boy
toward him by the bone. “Stick it on in
He dragged his own
swelling cock over
further to the side and pulled Bentley’s boner through the opening of
boxers, the corner of his mouth curling up nastily as Bentley sucked in
nervous breath. He guided the thing
under his nuts and let it rest there, a big heavy bullnut hanging over
side of the bone, feeling Bentley throb, feeling the rigid spike
harder upward into his sweaty nutsack with each beat of the boy’s heart.
“Oh yeah, yer one stiff
Kraze clamped his thighs
felt the surging pulse leaking slightly between his legs.
“Yeah, ya pop a wet one.
. . . C’mon, man, relax.”
barely appeared at the sides of Kraze’s waist: “I don’t even know what
“Who the fuck does? You
just do it.”
Kraze placed a palm over
Bentley’s hands, pressing them more firmly against his waist, faintly
encouragement into the boy, and Bentley’s fears very slowly began to
melt. Kraze moved to the wrists.
His fingers urged Bentley to slide the hands
further around to his back, coaxing the kid into exploring.
Bentley’s boner slipped
there, and he finally started to press himself forward, his hip bones
connecting with Kraze’s, his cock pushing deep.
“Yeah, that’s more like
it.” Kraze held Bentley like that with his
minute, his sweaty nuts caressing the thumping stick, but then he
the boy back out and grabbed his own slim hips this time.
“Wanna see it? Wanna check out this
He slowly pushed his
boxers down off his smooth ass, a swirl of dark pubes emerging, and
then his long
thick cock swung out and up, aiming right back into a warm slide
Bentley’s pounding boner.
“Play with me, man.”
Bentley knew the look of
well. It was precisely like the
drawing. Every little vein was there,
the exact shading of the circumcision, the shadow against the curving
ridge. The artist had studied it with
“Yeah, it’s all cool, man.
Relax and get into it like ya want.”
Kraze rested his forearms
Bentley’s shoulders and hung his head down to watch as the boy slowly
fingers around the biker’s hard prick.
Bentley felt the blood burning in the thick shaft.
He squeezed just slightly and then slipped
along the veins, past the cut cock’s scar, over the heavy ridge, until
rubbed up the spiked dickhead.
It wasn’t just his
fingers. He almost felt like his eyes were
there with them, too, studying every little quarter inch of the rod
giving him – the yielding skin, the rigid bone underneath.
The heat. The surge.
He slowly peered up at Kraze. “I
want you,” he muttered quietly.
“I know, man. Want
Kraze reached into his
pulled out a small bottle of oil. He
flicked the top open and began pouring the stuff over Bentley’s
feeling it leaking through them and
along his stiff prong, then dripping off down onto the front of his
In a minute, he gently
boy back into the wall again, hunched himself just a little, and
hips into Bentley, his strong, slick throbber sliding easily between
thighs where he slowly glided himself in and out. He
reached up with his fingertips and took
Bentley by the chin, turning the boy’s face up toward his own.
If there had been any trace of a smirk
remaining, it had long since disappeared. The
dark brown eyes only signaled lust.
He pressed forward and
slid an arm
around, slipping his hand down to Bentley’s tight butt, his middle
sliding sturdily down half an inch between the tops of the tense
relaxing back. His other arm traveled
and up behind the back of Bentley’s shirt, as Kraze pulled their bodies
together tightly. He stuck himself
harder through Bentley’s legs now and felt the hands embrace him just
more this time. He wagged his boner from side to side, then ground
around in a
slow circle. The boy was still shivering
just a little, but the air was growing warmer.
“Pretty hot, huh?” Kraze
softly in that low, deep voice. He
started in again on another long, slow fuck between the firm thighs,
rammed in hard a few seconds every few strokes, sliding a palm down to
hold the boy tight by the butt.
He soon pulled back and
stonehard slab slide wetly up through Bentley’s balls and then grabbed
kid’s dick against his own, pulling the shafts upward together in his
he began a steady, horny fuck in his hand, the oil smearing over his
slicking both boys completely.
Kraze ground along harder
the rod in his fist. “Fuck.
C’mon ‘n catch the rhythm.”
Cylinders glided and
pistons cranked. Both
boys looked down at the sticks in
Kraze’s hand. A seep of clear fluid was
smearing out along Kraze’s iron shaft.
“Aw yeah, man, fuck. Yer
leakin’ it off all over me.”
“Ngh. . . .
Ngh. . . .
Kraze,” huffed Bentley. Finally.
His breathing raged, the voice still very
quiet. “I want you so bad.”
A rivulet of sweat
trickled out from
under Kraze’s hair and riddled its way down the side of his face.
He moved in hotly and grazed his nose against
Bentley’s ear, increasing the volume of his soft, uneven panting as he
picked up speed.
Yeah, that’s it. Fuck along with
me, kid. Fuck my fist.
Feel those two stiff fuckbones fuckin’ away
against each other.”
Bentley’s breath grew
each intake as he tried to keep control, but within minutes he was
losing it. He was desperate to hold out longer, but there wasn't
a chance in a first-time like this.
“Nnnnth . . . nnnnth. . .
. Kraze. . . . I
want you so bad. I’m
gonna– gonna. . . .”
“Yeah, man, that’s it. Give
in to it. Give
it to me. Gimme yer stuff.”
Bentley groaned and
his head bashed back against the wall, his knees shaking, the muscles
thighs quivering. Kraze whacked with his
hand and humped Bentley’s stiffness against his own until Bentley
whined and started chucking up his load.
A blast of jizz gushed up
saturated both stiff cocks. A second
hose of it skewered through Kraze’s fingers and sloshed down off his
his jeans. Bentley wailed and shoved
upward, and a long hard squirt pissed into the stretched skin beneath
ridge, fountaining up further and splattering across the front of the
jacket. He spunked up a bit higher into
the tiny wisp of sprigs sprouting from the faint cleft of Kraze’s
matting the tiny dark things down and straight against the pale skin.
Bullets of fresh young
into Kraze’s ribs and skated down his firm, tight stomach, bright white
racing each other along either side of the centered line of fuzz, on
Kraze’s pubes, sliding onto his thighs and soaking his boxers.
Kraze kept pumping the bones against each
other with a strong, knowing grip as the boy huffed and hissed.
He worked and mashed the staffs together,
ramming his own raging spike up and down in wicked thrusts, letting the
kid get off all
rod, making the spitting tip of the boy’s spurter slide tight along the
length of his own surging hardon. He
jacked and humped until nothing more came out.
Kraze folded the boy into
held him close to his chest, just a second or so, before capturing the
eyes with an upturned eyebrow: “bet ya wanted that a long time, huh?”
Then Kraze pushed him
back and stood
the kid before him. He reached around past
either side of Bentley’s neck and pressed his palms into the wall.
He nodded downward, and they both looked as
Bentley curled his fingers around the heavy rod.
Bentley smoothed his
over the biker dick and began fooling around.
The tremble was gone, and he moved in heatedly as he felt Kraze
down. He twisted his fingers back and
forth. He boinged the boner around.
He added his other hand and
started in on fondling like a master – first together, then one up and
after the other, then sliding them against each other in opposite
“Fuck yeah, man. Get
all over my dog there.
Whip that fuckin’ puppy around.”
Bentley went on playing, but he was
struggling for a voice. “K-Kraze,” he finally managed. “I
“You got me, man. It's
The fingers flickered hornily all
around the soaked shaft, and soon Bentley found a rhythm and set into
strokes on the bone. The air grew thick with a musky odor as
excitedly on Kraze’s cock.
The biker boy pushed himself back from the
wall, gripped the kid’s shoulders, and hung on tight for a loud, hard
fuckin’ nasty, man.
Bentley could hardly believe what he
was doing to Kraze, and that Kraze was all horny from him doing it,
silly in his hands. He wanted the boy to
know. He wanted to say it better.
“I want– I wanted this dick
so bad. Wanted to look at it, feel it. I want you so bad."
Kraze bucked hard into his
fist. “You got me, man.
You got me, an' yer gettin' into it good, too. Havin' yourself some
Bentley worked his hands all
over. He smacked and jacked and jerked
that steel bar. All of his dreams were exploding to the surface,
working out the fantasies through imaginative fingers, deep dark ideas
about beating a boy off.
Kraze began hissing like a steam valve, spitting out a "fuck" every few seconds.
“So stiff, Kraze. You’re
“Fuck. Yeah, kid, jack it.
my fuckin’ joint. Fuck.
Do what you fuckin’ want on me. Fuck.
get me off so hard, man. Fuck.”
Bentley picked up speed
and soon was
only spewing out a quiet stutter of meaningless mumbles as he lost the
difference between the dick and his dreams.
Kraze’s eyes narrowed and
he puffed into the air and murmured quick and horny, too: “beat it,
beat me, fucker; beat it, fucker.” He
was close, so close. Bentley was whacking
him perfectly, as if he knew Kraze’s dick as well as his own.
In another second,
Kraze’s boots curled
up as he lifted to his toes, shoved his body forward, jabbed his rod up
and tight through Bentley’s smacking fingers, and slammed a fist into
“aw, yeah; oh, fuck; aw yeah, fuckin’
A hard bolt of blow
in the jaw. Another hunk slugged his
neck, followed fast and thick with streams of streaking squirts that
down his shirt, the sperm filling the musty air with a harsh, rank
cleanser. Kraze had packed well for this.
“Aw yeah, take
it, kid. Drill it the fuck outa there.”
He kept banging on the
wall of the
can and dancing on his toes as he whizzed his best gunk, busting up
proud and drenching the boy down.
Bentley squeezed the
in his fist and looked straight into the hole, just as a big ball of
whirled up and exploded into the air, a rich smell
filling his face as the stuff plastered one side of his
and thickly slid down his cheek in full white clumps.
He hauled in a hot, hard breath, then clenched his
jaw and milked for more.
“Fuckin’ yeah, fucker,”
Kraze rasped loudly as he humped the fist, jabbing with a spray to the
his words. “Drill
that fuckin' spunk right outa me.
Knew you’d be hot at this.
ya wanted dick. Knew you
were wantin’ my dick
Bentley was coated, but Kraze wasn't
done. He smashed on forward, gripping the boy tight, humping his
hardon into Bentley's stomach
spewing sauce like crazy. He needed another minute before
pressing his teeth tightly down against
kid’s collar, snarling, shivering out a last dense knot.
They were both still
when Kraze finally let go and backed up a step. And
took a long moment after that before the boys came
back down into the room, where Bentley’s worries returned.
But soon, Kraze draped an arm over Bentley’s
shoulder and dragged him out to the front of Spokes where they stood
second beside Kraze’s bike.
Bentley kicked at the
gravel. “I guess I wanna thank you–”
“–wanna thank you, too,
The kid looked up at
Kraze, at that Kraze-amazin’
face. “I wish I were more. . . .”
“You know, you really
oughta look in
the fuckin’ mirror closer. Oughta see in
yer own eyes.”
Bentley gazed into space
spokes of the bike. Within the haze, he
wondered how anything could be cooler than memories of this.
“Quit it, ya little fuck.
The action’s right the fuck in fronta yer
eyes, get it? You got any idea how much yer missin'?”
There was the slightest
that creeped quietly into Kraze’s deep brown eyes, and his long,
fingers threaded once just barely through Bentley’s hair.
But then the fingers were gone and so was the
I wanna show you some stuff in my basement.
I draw a lot more dick.” He dragged
Bentley behind him onto his bike
and fired it up. “Hang on,” he yelled
Bentley gripped Kraze at
slim waist. “Nah, here,”
Kraze thundered over the engine as he pulled Bentley’s hands
down to his crotch.
“You got me by the balls, Bent. Better.” The wheels flew them forward. All the dust blew back behind. Kraze and Bent shot out of there like it was a race.
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