Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 15:37:27 -0400 (EDT) From: Wolf Pomo Subject: Gamblers Son (gay/adult youth, oral. anal, M/m, b/M...) DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts of boys and men discovering their sexuality. It contains graphic scenes of sex between consenting underage boy and adult males... If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it. Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the author for permission. If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the topic distasteful the please leave now. If you enjoy the story or if it evokes memories of your own, please let me know. I am happy to write stories from outlines. Copyright 2013 Wolf, All rights reserved. You may contact me at whitewold999@icqmail.com if you like. All flames will be ignored. Gambler's Son By Wolf My father had been a big money winner as a young man playing professional poker. He was used to the fast life of a professional gambler. He was comp'd at all of the Vegas hotels. He eventually got married and I was porn soon afterwards. While I was a young boy, my father started to lose poker games he would have normally won without much trouble. We started to fall on hard times. My mother developed a medical problem that required my father having too take her to an emergency room. She tied while in the waiting room of a ruptured appendix. Father had the responsibility of looking after me, while participating in marathon poker games that would last for days. He was drinking too much and using speed to stay awake for long periods of time. He was reduced to playing in backrooms for low stakes in an effort to win enough money to be able to buy back into high stakes poker games. There were times he would be flush with money only to lose it all. We moved around so much to avoid bill collectors that I never went to school. There were times we lived in old cars parked behind grocery stores, just to pick food out of the dumpsters. There came an occasion that my father was so desperate to get his hands on a stake large enough to buy into a high stakes poker game that he did a stupid thing. One night he stole the night's receipts of a Mexican gang from the courier before he could deliver the packet of money from a combination of drug sales, prostitution and gambling. There was in excess twenty grand in the unassuming bag. He had no place to leave me, so he took me to the local pool hall, where there was a private high stakes poker game upstairs. He had to get passed the bouncer by proving he had enough cash to buy into the game, even though he was known to the manager of the game. I was allowed to sleep on a couch next to a couple of high priced hookers, while the game progressed. Unknown to my father and I, he had developed a tell that gave away when her was bluffing or had a strong hand. When he would win pots they were light pots, and when he bluffed they would run the pots up. Winning little and losing a lot is a recipe or formula to lose your bankroll quickly. About twenty hours into the game my father wrote a marker for an additional ten grand. About ten hours later he was busted. When the banker confronted him to cover his marker, my father wimped out and admitted that he didn't have enough to cover the loses. The owner of the game signaled his bounces, and they grabbed my father by the arms and the owner ripped my father's pants down, and pulled out a cock large enough to have been on a donkey, and shoved it up my father's ass. I was horrified witnessing my father being raped. He was pleading and begging for forgiveness while the man raped his ass. Everyone was so engrossed witnessing my father being raped that they were totally surprised when a group of Mexicans busted in with guns drawn. The bouncers didn't have a chance to react, before they were disarmed. The leader of the group was known as "El Matador." His men took hold of my father's arms, as the leader confronted my father, while there was still a cock shoved up his ass. He demanded, "Where the fuck is my money, BITCH?" My father pleaded that he lost it in the poker game! El Matador turned to one of his thugs, and the man handed him a sword. He placed the tip against my father's neck at the knot above the shoulders and shoved the blade down through my father's spine, lungs, and heart, just like a bull fighter does a bull. My father coughed blood and collapsed instantly. The Matador turned to the owner of the game and said, "I expect you to return my money to me!" very coolly. The owner of the poker game knew better than to argue with so many drawn guns. He made a simple nod towards the banker of the game, and the banker quickly counted out twenty thousand dollars, and handed the bills to the nearest gun totting thug. The armed thugs were leaving as the owner asked, "What the hell am I supposed to with this body?" The leader of the gang, spit out, "It is your problem! Next time make sure your players didn't steel from me!" There was a lot of commotion. The unsuspecting gamblers were quick to split, along with the whores. They didn't even think to pick up their own money. The owner of the club told his body guards to dispose of the body, some place that it won't comeback to bite him in the ass! As the place cleared out, he finally noticed me still sitting on the couch in shock. He flung up his hands, "What am I going to do with this kid?" One of his bouncers said, "I know a administrator of an orphanage that could take in an extra boy and change his identity!" The club owner snarled, "Take care of it!" The bouncer took hold of my arm and pulled me to my feet. I was too shocked to say anything. He took me out the back door to a car parked in a lot behind the pool hall. He used his cell-phone to make a call to someone. He drove me to the edge of town and pulled into a driveway of a building that looked almost like a prison near a country club golf course. He pulled me out of the car by the arm, and dragged me into the administration office. We were greeted by an older man. I couldn't help staring at the man, because I had never seen anyone like him before. He was obviously a man, but he had makeup on like a female. I'm talking lipstick, eye shadow, false eyelashes and eyebrows plucked and colored. He even had diamond earrings. He was dressed in a business suit though. He greeted the poker club bouncer as if they were old friends, but he never took his eyes off of me. He asked, "What is the story about this delightfully charming young boy?" The man said, "This boy just witnessed his father getting executed by El Matador for stealing money from him! This boy can never tell anyone what he saw. If El Matador ever suspected that this boy could identify who killed his father, he would never live long enough to testify in court! You need to see to it that he forgets everything he ever knew about what happened to his father. I knew that you could change his identity, and how much you like young boys, and figured if anyone could bring him up right, you were the one that could do it. There was some discussion about compensation that I didn't understand. I never knew if the orphanage paid the owner poker club, or if the poker club paid the orphanage for me. As soon as the bouncer departed the orphanage the administrator put his perfumed arm around me, as he tried to comfort me. He told me that he would look after me, and protect me from any harm. He introduced himself as Gilbert Olson, and he asked me where I had been living. As soon as I told him about living my father's old Dodge Dart behind a grocery store, he insisted that I show him where, before the police found the car. As soon as we pulled up alongside the car Gilbert used rubber gloves to rummage through the car for any trace of me living there. He removed the papers from the glove box with reference to me. He opened the trunk and removed only luggage containing my clothes, and rummaged through papers for any reference about me. He told me that it would be wise if no one ever knew that my father had a son, because the gang would come looking for me. When we returned to the orphanage, he suggested that I take a worm bath and get some sleep. He showed me a typical public type of bathroom with a cold concrete shower. He turned on the shower for me, and left me to undress and take a shower. I had forgotten that I hadn't slept in almost a two days. The warm water made me relax so much that I sat down under the spray of the warm water and fell asleep. Gilbert had to turn the water off before waking me up. He gave me a large soft bath towel to dry off. When I came out of the bathroom I followed Gilbert to his bedroom, and there were silk pajamas lying on the bed. I put them on and got into the bed. I was asleep almost instantly. I did have a fitful night's sleep because I was having nightmares about the murder of my father. (No boy should ever see their father killed the way mine was.) I must have been whining in my sleep, because Gilbert came into the bedroom and lay down with me and hugged me against his chest as I drifted back off to sleep. I slept for at least 14 hours before hunger woke me up. Gilbert felt me moving around and got up to retrieve clean clothes for me to put on. There were simple boxer shorts, blue denim jeans, blue work shirt and cheap tennis shoes and socks. He used his cell-phone and ordered a meal brought up from the kitchen for me. Then he looked through my luggage at my clothes. He simple said, "There is nothing in here worth saving son. We might as well dispose of these things, even the underwear are full of holes!" By the time I was dressed a cart with a large breakfast arrived. I devoured the meal quickly. Afterwards Gilbert told me that he had someone that would give me a new identity. He told me that if the gangbangers ever found out that the man they killed had a son that had witnessed him killing my father. He would have to see to it that I could never testify against him. The police know who he is, and how he eliminates people, but could never prove it. He disposed of the blades he used after every kill. Even if they stopped him, he never had a blade on his person. Someone else carries the blades for him and the new blades had never been use. He always did it that way so that everyone would know who had done it, as an object lesson, but impossible to connect him to the act. I pledged to kill him myself. Gilbert assured me that before I was grown, El Matador would have already been killed by another gangster. He would eventually invade the territory of another gang. His territory was next to the Chinese and black gang's turf. (He told the truth, it was only a couple of years before El Matador was found in an ally with his blade shoved up his ass and his throat cut. His tongue had been pulled out of his throat like a tie. Most of his gang was scattered around the alley full of built holes.) Gilbert had procured an official forged birth certificate proclaiming that I had been born in New Jersey and my name was Peter Hanson, son of Olaf Hanson and Lisabth Peterson- Hanson. It fit me well because I was a natural blond with blue eyes. Gilbert continued to have me sleep in his bed with him to comfort me. He also comforted me by taking my little penis out of the pajamas and playing with it to make me feel good. He even sucked on it lovingly. During the days I was being introduced to the way the orphanage operated. As I got used to the place it was not as frightening as it had appeared that first day. It still looked like a prison with high fences making it look so imposing. It was divided into two separate facilities. I was told that this was for at risk children. The teenagers had a separated portion of the campus (as it was called). The younger boys what another portion of the campus, but there were some teenagers allowed to help supervise the younger boys. I learned that the reason these boys were considered at risk was because they were considered delinquent or had been abused physically or sexually. It didn't take me long to witness sexual activity taking place in both sections of the campus. The orphanage staff not only ignored the sexual activities of the boy, they even participated in sex acts with them. Gilbert was showing me around the grounds, and introducing me to the staff members, along with some of the special boys. I was struck by the casual relationship the older teenagers had with staff members. There was one tall teenager leaning against a wall, all he had on was a pair of short shorts and a fish net tank top, and tennis shoes without socks. His long cock was plainly visible dangling below the right leg of his shorts. He was talking to a staff member, and was casually reaching down to stoke the crotch of the man he was talking to. The staff member looked to be about 50- years-old. The old man wore glasses and his hair was receding, and he was wearing a lab coat, but there was obviously a bulge in the front where the teenager was stroking. I was surprised that Gilbert didn't reproach the two of them. Gilbert didn't even seem to notice their conduct. There didn't seem to be a lot of teenagers around, and Gilbert told me that after school in the morning a lot of them were working as apprentices for local business or trades. There were a few teenagers allowed to supervise the younger boys though. As Gilbert was showing me where the younger boys and boys my age, were segregated from the older teenagers. I was not all that impressed until we came to an outdoor location where a teenager was calmly whittling on a block of wood with a sharp knife. He was sitting on the grass with his back resting against and old oak tree. His legs were bent and spread wide, because there was a boy about ten lying on his belly between the teenagers legs. The teenager's pants were open and the boy was sucking on the cock, while jerking him off. Again Gilbert showed no reaction to catching a teenager being sucked off by a young boy. I became aware that the young boys were also engaged in playful games all over the place. I had never witnessed so many boys jacking off and jacking off each other before. We even fond a young boy too young to cum bent over a table and a boy about fourteen sticking his cock up the boy's ass. The boy was not complaining, in fact he was reaching back to grasp the teen's thighs and pull him tighter against his smooth butt. It was obvious that sex was going to be my favorite pastime. Gilbert introduced me to a teenager that looked to be about seventeen, named Frank. He was a very handsome looking guy. That was the beginning of mt attraction to both older men and young boys. If you enjoyed the story and have a story you want me to write about your introduction to the world of male sexuality, please send your outline to whitewold999@icqmail.com