Date: Thu, 29 Dec 2011 15:42:44 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Promiscuity and Purpose 10

CHAPTER X

RELAPSE

It was a Friday evening in mid August when my resistance finally crumbled
and I again headed toward Forty-Second Street, this time via Broadway. The
first boy who looked to be hustling was a pleasant looking brown skinned
eleven or twelve year old standing alone in front of a games parlor.
Quickly picking up on my stare, he approached and asked, in a heavy New
York accent, if I'd take him inside and pay for some of the machines on
which he claimed to be very proficient. Thinking that after a few turns at
pinball or Skeeball, he'd be coming home with me, I nodded and followed him
inside.

It was an entirely new experience in there. Before I could look over the
mass of machines, I saw the many boys from perhaps ten to seventeen or
more, a few accompanied by men who watched over their shoulders and urged
them on. A bored unshaven attendant sold me two dollars worth of tokens
which I handed to my boy whose name I hadn't yet learned. He went straight
to a claw machine and spent at least a dollar's worth trying to snatch a
watch that was much too buried in other goodies.

Without a word, not even a look my way, he jumped over to a pinball machine
that an older boy had just abandoned. With no idea what a good score was, I
had no idea how well he was doing.

While he played, I looked around at the eye candy two of whom nodded my
way.

That's when a man in a dress shirt and suit jacket said quietly into my
ear, "He doesn't go, just likes to get us to pay."

With that he continued on to a brown haired boy a year or two older than
mine who was shooting a rifle at a moving bear figure behind glass.

In about fifteen minutes, my little con artist had used up his tokens and
was requesting more. He frowned when I refused and returned to his spot
outside without looking back.

I walked over to my informant and said, "Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and turned his attention back to another pubescent
boy he was holding by the ribs while the kid swung his hips side to side
and punched the flipper buttons, his butt brushing back and forth across
his benefactor's pants, probably comforting a hard on.

Rather than guess which boys were available for a trip to my bedroom, I
went back outside. There was my two dollar game boy standing where I'd
first seen him. He acknowledged me with a slight, surreptitious gesture of
his hand. No sense letting other marks know he'd left me high and dry.

I had to walk halfway down Forty-Second Street before spotting an
interesting pair. Both were decent looking if not beautiful, about twelve
or so. The slightly larger of the pair stepped forward and asked me for a
quarter. As I was handing it over, he continued, "You got a place?"

"Whatta you mean?"

"Someplace we can go with you. You in a hotel?"

Well aware of hustler's penchant for theft, I'd have preferred a hotel over
my apartment but doubted one would allow me in with a pair of boys.

"How much?"

"Three each."

Expensive for a guy used to less than a dollar.

Both appeared relatively clean, not like they were living on the streets.
They didn't have the tell-tale dirty necks and wore intact sneakers. "Okay,
it's a few blocks."

"How many?"

"Ten then over one."

"Can't we get a taxi?"

"Not if I'm going to have money for you." I thought that was a clever
answer.

He frowned and returned to his buddy for a powwow. The one at the wall sent
his partner back with, "Three fifty, okay?"

I chuckled and agreed.

They were experienced, knowing to stay about thirty yards behind me then
darting behind the iron rail and trotting down the stairs into my place
when we arrived. I think the unfinished front rooms frightened them because
they stopped short just inside the door.

"My apartment's over here in the back."

Turning on the light exposing the wall thirty feet ahead seemed to reassure
them, even more so when they entered the spacious dining and living area.
"Wanna take a warm shower first? I got a new bathroom with a big new
shower."

"What for?" asked the spokesboy.

"Just if you want to, nothing else. Then we can go into my bedroom over
there."

They looked at each other then declined. "Let's do it now. We gotta get
back."

I'd heard that line before. This was going to be a pair of naked boys and
two blowjobs, both delivered by me.

I had to insist they take everything off when they resisted. The quiet one
had a very impressive body, nice pectorals and a flat tummy flowing down to
a recently growing cock. His slightly enlarged balls hung like paired
pendulums to near the end of his peter. His slightly larger friend was a
prepube but with a long, thick cock.

The names they gave as they stripped were Billy and Tommy, obvious
pseudonyms.

They got up on my king size bed and lay side by side on their backs, hands
behind their heads.

I stripped down to my undershirt and boxers and lay head to toe with the
bigger boy. The raised arms were a familiar sign that he wasn't going to
participate other than providing an orgasm. His erection was up in a pair
of seconds. His climax took longer, quite a bit. I began to think he'd
already gotten off a couple of times with other clients. However, he did
get off and strongly so, his body stiff as an oak plank.

His buddy, whose hands dropped down on my head as he approached the end,
took a little longer but had a wonderfully full sucking organ and fired a
shot of sweet juice into my mouth.

Within minutes, they were dressed and ready to go. I handed over seven
dollars, a five and two ones, for them to split. "When you want us to come
back?"

"Better let me find you. I work a lot of crazy hours so I never know when
I'm gonna be here." Did they understand I was no longer interested in their
services?

FYI: Sometime later, I learned that the position the two maintained during
our one way sex, arms up with hands behind their heads, was called the
`Forty-Second Street stretch' because one ran into it so often with Times
Square hustlers.

The idea of returning for another boy or two was very tempting. As opposed
to the pair I'd just had, more often than not with my regulars and even not
so regulars back home, I was able to get myself off, mostly between their
legs but occasionally between lips or up inside their backside. So, there I
was, hornier than before I'd left but, prudence and self discipline took
hold. No sense having a parade of boys in and out of the basement. From six
in the AM to after midnight during those warm months, there were always
neighbors, singles and in groups, hanging out on the stoops or fire
escapes, in wide open windows or just standing around on the sidewalk.

Anyhow, you'd think that should have been enough after the longest stretch
celibacy I'd experienced since early childhood.

Other than the Jamaican who was, rare for his nationality, either a
workaholic or just needed to make more money as he claimed, the only way my
guys would work Saturdays was being paid time and a half which was
impossible to bill. Anthony Yanga, without a family to go home to and not
the barfly type like McLeary, was always willing and never mentioned the
word `overtime'. I'd come to believe his story about eventually taking
himself and his boys back home to Jamaica.

Saturday morning and early afternoon, Anthony and I between us took care of
five work orders : window repairs (broken as usual from the inside) and a
leaky faucet on Forty-Eighth, a broken banister on Ninth Avenue (the Irish
kids on that avenue were brutal), a toilet that wouldn't stop running on
Fifty-First (I took out the doll stuck in the tank), and a broken lock on
my street that needed replacing.

As I always did when he worked on Saturdays, I paid James for his time,
then, as I hadn't been doing, went down to Forty-Two as the kids called it,
entering this time from Eighth Avenue. Taking a boy or boys back to my
basement in daylight was a minor concern I planned to deal with somehow if
the need arose.

For the first time, the market was bare of what I sought. There were some
kids in the games parlor, playland in the local jargon, but they were
completely absorbed in their battles with spacemen, claws, Skeeballs and
running bears. I played a couple of games on a pinball machine and left,
again finding the street uninteresting.

With nothing else to do, I walked down to the Port Authority Bus Terminal
on Eighth Avenue to see, for no special reason, just curiosity, where the
various buses went and what they charged. Standing along the wall, in a
long, broad hallway lined with stores, were three elevens or so who
recognized my stare and walked along with me.

"Where you going?" asked a brown haired cutie with his hand on my arm.

"Just looking around."

"Want one a us to go with you?"

"How much?" Was I being too bold? Nope.

"Two."

I looked over the three. One was downright homely and skinny as a rail to
boot, another, a freckle faced red-head who, from experience, would
probably have rough skin. Their speaker, a cute almost blond with what
appeared to be a decent full body, seemed affectionate, or an experienced
con artist. So, I chose him. You see how callous I'd become?

Freddy, as he called himself, told his buddies he'd be back in an hour and
meet them where we were at the time. It was also a message to me.

We walked together up Ninth Avenue until just before my block when I
explained, "Wait a few minutes then go where you see me enter, understand?"

"Shuah. "Sure in New Yorkese though it turned out he was from Harrison, New
Jersey which I gradually learned was a virtual fountain of pretty, young
white boy hustlers.

He began shedding his clothes the moment I closed the apartment entry
door. By the time he got to the bedroom door, he was delightfully naked.

"Wanna take a shower first?"

"Lemme see."

He saw and liked.

I asked, "Mind if I shower with you? Been working all day."

He shrugged his shoulders and threw his head back into the warm cascade.
His ample backside held my attention until he looked my way with a
satisfied expression. He knew what he had and was proud of it.

I washed his back then the rest of him. He washed my back.

Dried off and on top of the bed, he assumed the position, flat on his back,
arms up, hands behind the head. I assumed mine head to toe and rolled him
onto his side.

"This is more," he said like a store clerk.

"How much?"

"Dollar."

I wasn't sure whether this was to be masturbation or a BJ. I took his stiff
three inches into my mouth. He took my six into his. Somewhat athletically,
he managed to coordinate rhythmic hip thrusts into my mouth with his oral
ministrations. I willed my juices to wait.

This was certainly not Freddy's first time, more like his umptieth. He was
great, pulling his cheeks in tight as he moved his head back and sucking
hard as he went down. It didn't seem likely many female whores could do
better.

There were no protestations about my hands gripping his plump cheeks.

For a while, he maintained a slow, gentle rhythm but then gradually sped
up, his upper leg lifting and falling in time. Without stopping the rest of
him, he took his mouth off me and requested, "Tell me before."

`Before' was seconds away. I yanked myself out of his mouth and cupped my
hand around the head of my cock. He fell back and thrust harder into my
mouth, cumming himself moments later. Very professional.

"It's getting' on your bed," he informed.

I struggled into a sitting position to catch the rest of my sperm. Freddy
got up beside me and watched.

"You got a lot, don'tcha?"

Maybe us southern folks were more potent than most of his northern
customers.

We showered again. This time he washed my cock for me.

He left with his three dollars and no orgasm to make it difficult for his
next client.. I took a nap.

At seven, after eating a sandwich for dinner, it was back to the Square,
this time the games parlor in hopes of making contact with the man who'd
warned me about the games hustler. I planned to take him out to dinner and
plumb for hints about how to best operate there in midtown Manhattan as
well as see if there were other places of interest.

The games hustler was there but the man wasn't. After four embarrassing
pinball games kid observers laughed at, I went back out concerned I'd
ruined my gaming credentials in front of now lost sexual adventures, and
walked past a lone cutie eyeing me seductively, then into a movie that
looked interesting, almost immediately repenting and returning to the
street. The cutie, a buck more expensive than Freddy, was interested and
came back with me.

Nude in the light of my bedroom, I could see why he commanded a higher
price. He was a doll with more than just a cute face topped with nearly
blond hair. He possessed a firm, full body and a growing scrotum. I'd
guessed eleven, reality was more like thirteen.

Unfortunately, that's all one got from this professional: great eye
candy. Stretched out, he seemed completely oblivious to the sex act, not
becoming more than slightly rigid when he came.

I took him back to Forty-Two for another shot at finding the man I
sought. Again, he wasn't there but, a pair of dark skinned Hispanic boys
joined me at the pinball machine I was struggling with.

After some small talk about how to improve my gaming skills, the older of
the two asked, "Wanna us to go to your hotel?"

My speech had given me away as a foreigner.

As before, they followed instructions and scooted down the steps and into
the open basement door minutes after me.

"I'm Estiven and he's Manuel. He don't speak much English, the elder
explained, "but he does everything."

That sounded interesting, especially as they disrobed. Manuel had a long
smooth body with a hefty, premature cock and a nice ass. The moment we were
on top of the bed, he embraced me and gave a mouth scouring French kiss.

Estiven, his body tight against mine from behind said quietly, "See, I told
you. He sucks good. Wanna fuck him?"

I was much too involved with oral lovemaking to answer right away. Estiven,
probably horny watching Manuel and me, cuddled up tighter and pushed four
inches of dry cock between my ass cheeks, pulling them apart with one hand,
and poking at my hole.

Manuel took hold of my hard on and massaged it, then my balls and back. I
returned the favor. His cock was thick for its apparent stage of
development. I felt his balls to confirm their prepubescent size. He took
his mouth off mine and said something in Spanish.

Estiven translated, "He wants to know if you want him to blow you now."

Before I could answer, Manuel pushed me back, forcing Estiven to back off,
and slid down between my legs, right off placing my cock where my tongue
had been seconds before. He wasn't as skilled as Freddy but made up for it
with fervor, sucking hard and moving his head all over. Estiven sufficed
with humping my leg like a Terrier.

I tried to pull Manuel around for a sixty-nine but he put his hand up to
wait.

"Estiven explained, "He wants you to blow him after you fuck him. You got
some Vaseline or something?"

Not ready to stop what was being done so well, I held up my hand to wait.

Estiven asked, "Okay if I fuck you when you fuck him?"

I patted him on the head. He continued dry fucking my leg.

Manuel sucked on, stopping every few minutes, probably to avoid a not yet
desired orgasm. Estiven asked again where I kept my `grease'.

"In the table, open the drawer."

He rolled over and found it, opened it and crawled down to the bottom of
the bed where he squeezed some between Manuel's small but well formed
cheeks. That seemed to be the signal. Manuel gave my cock a last long slow
suck then slid over and up until he was beside me. I was ready to climb on
top but he wanted some pre-fuck affection so we frenched for a few
moments. Estiven dripped some KY on my cock and spread it around with his
hand which he wiped on my sheet afterwards. I didn't see him do it, just
found the oily hand and finger marks after they'd left.

Manuel pulled on my ass, indicating, I was sure, that it was time to mount
up. Estiven, on his knees and bent down nearly to bed level, pulled one of
Manuel's cheeks open then reached in with his other hand and guided my cock
to its target. There was none of the often heard, `wait, wait' as I slipped
inside. He pushed his ass back into me with Estiven tugging the one cheek
out to allow total entry. That hot, slick rectum warmed me right up to my
chest hairs. Manuel reached back and pulled my ass into him, released then
tapped it as though to let me know I should get trotting.

After my first thrust, Estiven straddled me, pulled open my cheeks, lowered
himself and poked right inside. If you don't know, getting fucked, even
with Estiven's relatively small tool, while fucking is about as good as it
gets. Estiven thrust when I did, shooting sparks out of my prostate right
into my gut. Manuel, head pressed into the pillow and eyes closed, rode my
ass with both hands. Estiven grabbed hold of my shoulders but stayed up,
probably his optimum position for the hard thrusts he made into me. This
wasn't going to take long.

A quickie wasn't Manuel's goal. He stopped me from pulling out at one
point, waited while Estiven continued banging into me, then released my
buns and gave a gentle nudge from below my hip. The fire in my balls had
subsided. I pushed in deeper each time, rocking back and forth a few times
then pulled out to the tip and shoved myself back into Manuel's warm
depths.

There were two more pauses though not for Estiven who was slamming into me
harder and harder. During the second, I felt drops of sweat hitting the
back of my neck. After the last break, Manuel urged me with his hands to
push in harder, faster. I happily complied. In less than a minute, my
insides seemed to swell. I rammed in and fired, briefly worried that one of
the other possibly myriad of men had left more than his sperm in there,
maybe some kind of malicious microbe. The concern evaporated in the wave of
pleasure that swept through me as I pumped liquid and Estiven pumped cock
as fast as he could, culminating shortly in the thumping of his orgasm.

That was what sex is supposed to be about.

Manuel pushed me off and turned over, taking my head into his hands and
pushing it toward his middle. I was still dripping cum as I took him in. It
only took about half a dozen downs and backs for him to sit up and grab my
head, holding it firmly to his groin while his fat cock pulsated inside my
mouth.

We showered. While I soaped him up, Estiven asked if he could eat
something. Dry but still naked, both finished off a box of Wheat Chex.

"Okay if we sleep here tonight?"

"You got permission?"

"My mother thinks we are at this other kid's house. We do this all the
time. She don't care."

"What if she called your friend's house?"

"His phone got disconnected last year."

Still without dressing, they watched some Spanish language TV. Meanwhile I,
hardly the nudist like Ned, clad in boxers and a tee shirt, washed dishes,
gave the kitchen a thorough cleaning, and thought about the washer and
drier I needed to buy. Mrs. Nogales, who'd been my laundress since the
office building, probably wouldn't be happy at the loss of business but...

Later, as we lay in bed, I found out the boys were Puerto Rican and lived
in a project by One Hundred and Fifty-Fifth Street on the Manhattan side of
the East River, across from the Bronx. Estiven was thirteen and in fourth
grade after having failed first and third. Manuel wasn't studying but had
made it through third in Puerto Rico before coming to the mainland a few
months before.

"Did he do this, you know, with men, in Puerto Rico?"

"Sure. A coupla uncles was fucking him since he was little and some other
guy and a couple a kids, teenagers. He's a fag like you. You like it when I
fucked you?"

"Unh huh. You were good. Hard work, huh?"

"Yeah. Sometimes when I get blowed I can't cum so I always ask if I can
fuck the guy."

"How long you been doing this?"

"Couple years. I got some friends, cousins come down here and they showed
me. You wanna meet `em? They don't get fucked, well, except Tommy. He does
it sometimes but you pay a lot unless you buy him stuff. I'm big but my ass
is too little. How old were you when you got fucked the first time?"

"Wasn't that long ago," I lied to avoid seeming too faggy.

Shortly after falling asleep, I was awakened by movement. Estiven was
planking Manuel. As with me, it took a while, the smacking sound raising my
horns again. I switched around to a sixty-nine with Manuel. He took me in
immediately but put his hand on the back of my head preventing more than a
minimum of movement. This time, rather than let go every once in a while to
prolong my passion so I could stick him too, he worked me slowly but with a
goal of orgasm. It didn't take long. He grabbed my ass, keeping me inside
his mouth as he swallowed fast. Estiven took another few minutes before he
rammed in for the last time. That's when Manuel released my head. His
climax came on the third suck, thump, thump, thump.

Estiven went for another shower. Manuel remained in bed, to sleep. He did
give me a quick kiss but then rolled away and was in dreamland well before
Estiven got back, his jet black hair still wet.

During breakfast, Estiven again offered access to his cousins. We made a
date for the following Saturday evening.

Sunday, not really sexually drained but wary of bringing more boys back to
the block, I worked on the apartment and took a nap. In the evening, I made
multiple calls home to assure everybody, even Tim, that I was okay. There
was no news on any front. Patty wanted to come see my new digs but wasn't
sure when. She was taking summer courses that would jack up her teacher's
pay in the fall.

That week, the agent came through with seven more chimneys that had to be
rebuilt at three hundred dollars a pop but including materials. I hired a
local teen, not one of the younger beat off trio, to carry bricks, sand and
cement to the roofs while I did the work. Four were across the same
connected row of tenements. The job was done in two days while my gang made
additional money for me.

By Friday evening, I could look back on the most lucrative week of my life.

There was an increasing determination to stay in New York rather than
return home. With money and boys galore, why leave? Granted, swimming holes
were hours away up in the mountains but there had to be swimming
pools. Anyway, there was plenty of available entertainment for my young
friends from dozens of nearby movie theaters to Central Park and its lake
with boats for rent, and, of course, Coney Island which I had yet to visit.

Instead of going out seeking boys Friday night, I spent the evening making
a written chart of the plusses and minuses of both cities. Naturally,
family and friends were very important but they were within an easy three
hour drive or train ride. However, I still had no BL friends in this huge
city with whom I could hold a relaxed, open conversation. That, however,
would probably change over time. I'd meet someone, possibly through the
boys I took out, maybe Phil's friend he'd so far been unable to contact, or
so he said. Access to boys was probably about the same in both cities
though none of the New York hustlers I'd met, other than Manuel and that
was passion rather than real friendship, had been anything other than pure
business. The affection was temporary, part of the job. Additional meetings
were because I was a paying customer not out of any actual desire for
friendship though, that too well could change over time. Expecting more
would be unrealistic on a first or second meeting. Nonetheless, it was
basically whores and johns, just what the drive in me drove me to do, not
what Walter McNally said I was supposed to be doing.

In neither city did I feel any danger in prudently picking up boys. So far,
no one had made any comments about boys going into my basement
apartment. That may not have been a valid observation since, with rare
exceptions, few people spoke to me in part because quite a few didn't speak
English and I, though I was picking up a word here and there, couldn't
converse in Spanish.

The big plus for New York obviously was the money. Were I to sell a half
dozen houses a year back home, and that was an unrealistic goal, I still
wouldn't make nearly as much as where I was. Apart from that, I was finally
living in a place, my increasingly comfortable basement apartment, that I
could arrange the way I wanted and live in for a long time. Plus, it didn't
need expensive air conditioning to be comfortable during hot, humid New
York summers. It was shortly going to be necessary to install radiators and
pipe them into the boiler off to one side of my apartment but that,
economically, was duck soup.

In the end, New York won out handily as my new home except that I did see a
greater possibility of finding a special long term boy back home though,
after the disaster with poor Jamie, I wasn't sure deep down if that was
what I really wanted. What continued to press the thought on me was the
guilt, caused by Sgt. McNally's disturbing remark, that saving a single
child was my duty, what I was supposed to be doing.

With my business doing so well and three relatively reliable employees, I
could gradually slow down myself, working less than my current ten to
twelve hour days and get back to reading and maybe even take some of the
courses Walter McNally suggested. New York had a number of excellent
universities but, with an eye to making even more money and getting away
from paying kickbacks, I looked into getting plumbers and electricians
licenses, quickly learning that one had to work for a licensed individual
for varying periods of time in a process that would take years. I was stuck
in my current situation for the duration.

University courses covered everything one could imagine but I'd need my
high school graduation records to enroll which would mean giving an address
which a sharp investigator might use to find me. Not that I didn't trust
them which, of course, I did, not even family members or Ned had a phone
number for me. I called them. Working off the books as I did also blocked
off another avenue for discovery. But, in a few months, the need for
secrecy would be gone.

So, I took what seemed a minimal risk and, Saturday morning, got a
temporary library card. I'd always loved reading which I hadn't done since
leaving home. I carried three books back to my apartment, a novel and two
European history books.

That too had an adverse effect. By noon, sitting alone with a book in my
lap, my mind turned again to my need for a special boy, one I could read
to, who'd possibly be reading beside me. That led to a walk down to Times
Square even though my date was hours away at six.

There were boys in abundance, many older but with several preadolescents
mixed in, including Estiven, with a tallish fourteen or fifteen year old
friend. He nervously apologized for not showing up as promised until I
reminded him our date wasn't until six.

He appeared puzzled for a moment but recovered with, "Me and Larry can go
with you now and my cousins later."

I turned that down pleasantly but assured him I'd keep our date. He said
something in Spanish to his buddy who didn't seem bothered by it. Estiven
promised that he'd bring Manuel and one of his cousins at six o'clock right
where we were. It was clear that, had we not met, Estiven wouldn't have
shown up.

Continuing on, I saw a pair from behind, speaking to a man in a sports
shirt who shrugged his shoulders and walked off. The two backed against a
wall joking with one another about something, perhaps their lost
customer. Closer, both were white, one plain but the other nice with
longish light brown hair.

When they saw me looking, both pushed off the wall and waited as I neared
then walked on either side.

The pretty one, not wasting any time, asked, "You wanna go?"

"Where?"

"Where you go. I know a hotel."

I felt the bills in my pocket to see if that might be a better choice than
taking them back to my place.

"How much?"

"Hotel's fifteen, something like that. Five for us, two fifty each. Okay?"

"Where?"

"Back there." He pointed toward Eighth Avenue, "'bout four blocks. Wanna?
Justin sucks."

In other words, he might not look so great but he provides good service.

"And you?"

"Unh uh, just him. You can suck me if you want."

The hotel was a dive six blocks away, south on Tenth Avenue. The boys
scooted in behind me as I paid, straight to the elevator. The desk clerk
acted as though he hadn't noticed. The fifteen dollars was just for three
hours.

The water in the shower the three of us squeezed into was only
lukewarm. Neither had a particularly great body though Justin had a fine
pair of buns and a decent sized dong. I washed them, then, by default,
myself as they dried.

"Stay in here," I ordered as they headed out for the bedroom. I'd left my
pants on the bed.

Jake, the long hair, poked Justin in the ribs. Both smiled. They'd been
found out.

Justin, who spoke with an accent from somewhere other than New York,
possibly farther south, wanted to get right to the main event.

"One at a time," I said grinning.

He played with my cock, probably getting me hot enough that the blow job
would be quick. Jake liked being blown. He could hardly keep still. His
legs opened and closed repeatedly. His hands cautiously held and released
my head. When he was about to cum, he began thrusting violently. The actual
orgasm wasn't all that strong.

The room hadn't any forced ventilation. Jake was covered with sweat. Even
his belly was damp. He'd enjoyed it possibly more than me.

Justin's fellating was average but effective though he insisted I pull out
of his mouth before getting off. I tugged him around to get at his still
flaccid organ. It hardened quickly in my mouth. Within seconds, he was
pumping forcefully, his full buns flexing with each thrust. I willed myself
to hold off climax in an attempt to get him to fruition first. Suddenly, he
rolled us over until he was on top slamming into my face. He wrapped his
arms around my rear and bounced his head up and down on me. I had to let go
of his ass and use my hands to lessen the impact of his mouth fucking. He
was a strong boy.

A few minutes later, I could no longer hold back my orgasm. When I tried to
lift his head off my cock, I found his arms were trapped under me. I
quickly lifted my middle but he didn't let go. I gushed into his mouth just
as he too came. He coughed, spitting sperm into my hairs, as he climaxed
long and hard, the heavy pulsing going on for at least a minute. Even
though I'd kept my butt in the air to release his arms, his mouth stayed on
my cock until his feeling subsided. When he did get off me, he dripped cum
on my middle then spit softly into his hand a couple of times without a
comment while his buddy laughed.

In the shower, with my pants on the toilet, I washed him off again then
gave him a hug which he, unexpectedly, returned.

The whole thing including showers barely took thirty minutes. There'd
hardly been any conversation so I learned little about them, just that they
were on `Forty-Two' several times a week.

I let them leave ahead of me then, sated, walked in the direction of home
thinking about Justin's hug. Was this homely boy worth pursuing? Affection
was in fact more important to me than looks. Jamie hadn't been anything
special with those twig limbs and protruding ribs but I'd fallen in love
with him. I looked forward to meeting Justin again and learning more about
him. Perhaps we could eat together at an inexpensive area restaurant.

Another thought was the use of that hotel rather than my apartment. Fifteen
dollars was well within my means.

My date with Estiven and friends wasn't until six, so rather than return
home for the salad lunch I'd planned, I turned toward Broadway and tried
the food at a cheap Forty-Second Street steak house on the far side of the
Square from boy land. The food was surprisingly good for the price, a tasty
half pound steak, an excellent baked potato with sour cream, a simple salad
and a chocolate pudding desert I ate with the garlic bread, a different
combination, but tasty. Don't knock it until you've tried it.

On an impulse, I went back to the games parlor in hopes of finding the
informative man. There were three men inside with boys, and another looking
at the merchandise, none the individual sought. I was hustled by two
different boys to both of whom I gave fifty cents, half of what they
requested. The one was quite cute but for another day.

Then, halfway up Forty Second Street toward Eighth Avenue, I was confronted
by two light haired kids I'd seen there before, this time towing along what
appeared to be a seven or eight year old. It was too much to pass by. I
slowed and looked. The eldest, probably thirteen and entering puberty,
nodded at me to keep walking. They'd follow. A little farther down the
street, I looked back and saw them strolling well behind me.

When I waited at the corner, the same boy raised his chin for me to cross
over the avenue and keep going. We ended up going all the way to Tenth
Avenue. They were sure a lot more cautious than any of the others I'd
met. Was the Square finally under surveillance?

In a heavy Brooklyn accent, the boy advised me that Willy, the little one,
would "suck you off for three. You wanna do us, that's more. You gotta
place?"

The three of them weren't filthy but apparently hadn't bathed
recently. Willy, probably a small nine year old rather than younger, had
dirt behind his ears. It seemed like a good time to use the hotel a few
blocks down. As we approached it, I instructed them to do the same as the
previous pair and hustle on past me to the elevator while I paid the clerk.

It went exactly as earlier with the clerk not even looking at the kids as
they scurried on by. What was somewhat disconcerting was the older man and
the young prostitute who got off the elevator we were about to board.

"Naughty, naughty," muttered the young lady with mock disparagement. She
couldn't have been a day over sixteen.

Since I'd already showered and the four of us wouldn't have fit anyway, I
suggested they take a bath. Only Frankie, the eldest, was wearing socks but
that didn't prevent his feet from stinking as bad as the others. I opened
the window while looking over my shoulder at the bodies being
uncovered. Frankie was definitely growing. There was a tuft of hair over
what probably would grow to better than four inches when erect. The middle
boy, shy about allowing me to see up front, was chastised by Frankie and
told to turn around when he saw me looking. Nothing spectacular there. The
youngest didn't seem to care what I saw, even ignored me as he dropped his
clothes where he'd removed them and casually walked into the bathroom. The
all too brief turn my way barely displayed anything. None were particularly
endowed in the back.

While asking about each, I washed everyone's back and Willy's ears and
neck.

They were from Brooklyn, all in school though the two older behind by two
grades. Sean, the middle boy was twelve and made it clear, "I can wash my
ass," as my hand went to his lower back. Willy, who claimed to be ten,
raised his arms and turned around when I finished his back. So, I scrubbed
the rest of him, neck to two inch erection, finally stooping to wash the
legs he raised individually. When that was done, he turned around again,
arms out, so I scoured out his rear end, my finger caressing rather than
scrubbing his anus. Sean frowned. Frankie had his eyes closed as he washed
his long, well over the eyes, hair. The little one had a crew cut.

On top of the bed while I was undressing, Frankie humped a giggling Willy
from behind while Sean sat arms and legs crossed watching them with his
pasted on frown. I decided to do Frankie first in hopes of injecting a
little passion into sour puss. The thirteen year old wanted to go last.

Willy, lying on his tummy, chin in hand said, "Do Sean first. He likes it."
It sounded more like a taunt than a statement of fact.

Nonetheless, without a word, which was not unusual since he'd only said a
few since I'd met the group, Sean slid down and did the Forty-Second Street
stretch. It took a while to get his two and a half inches erect. An attempt
to finger his perineum and balls was greeted with slammed shut legs and my
hand being pushed away.

Obviously, Sean did not like it so, after a few ups and downs, I stopped
and said, "That was powerful! The girls are really gonna like you."

Surprised, Sean at first looked puzzled then nodded agreement, even gave me
a half a smile of appreciation. I hoped to speak to him apart and counsel
that he let the others go alone next time. The problem was that among the
three fairly ordinary faces, his was the best. I suspected that was why
Frankie dragged him along.

Frankie said, "Willy's next," then ordered the little one, "Blow him."

It's far from certain that Willy liked doing what he did but he was
energetic about it. Lying belly down between my legs, one arm under
himself, the other hand gripping the base of my cock, he immediately began
moving his mouth rapidly up and down the top half, all his little mouth
could swallow. His head wobbled all over, sucking hard on the tip each time
he got there, his teeth occasionally scraping me.

As he worked, Frankie whispered in my ear, "Let me fuck you."

I'd wanted to savor the sweet young liquid kids at his stage of growth
spurted but decided to be amenable. I rolled Willy and myself onto our
sides. Using spit as a lubricant, Frankie plunged in, fucking nearly as
rapidly as Willy was sucking.

The effect was very predictable. Within minutes, even with the irritation
of sharp teeth, I shot my load into Willy's little mouth. It didn't seem to
bother him at all. He kept on going until I grabbed his head and held it in
place halfway down.

The moment I let him up, he flipped around, mouth empty, with, "Now do me."

His dick was as stiff as Sean's wasn't. At probably less than two inches,
not much blood was required to raise it up, hard as a railroad spike. He
banged into my mouth as fast as he'd fellated me.

Frankie, apparently not liking our current positions, urged Willy to "Hurry
up."

The encouragement wasn't necessary. Willy fired off in less than a minute
then asked that I do him again.

Frankie insisted with words, "Get flat, Get flat." and his hands that I lay
on my stomach.

Willy squeezed under my face. Frankie fucked hard and fast, beating Willy
to orgasm, but not by much.

While Frankie and Willy went back for a second shower, I spoke to
Sean. "Sean, if you don't like this, just tell `em you got a stomach ache
or just stay home."

"Frankie's my brother. I can't. He makes me."

That was sad. "And Willy?"

"He's my cousin but he likes it. I don' know why I gotta go too."

I grilled him gently on why he was behind in school ("I don' like
school."), how things were in the house ("Okay except mom's always mad
about something."), what his father did for work ("Ain't got one, just a
uncle gives us money sometimes.").

"How come you don't like school?"

"I don' unnerstand an' they get mad all the time."

He sounded more like an unhappy nine year old than a boy on the cusp of
puberty. "When's your birthday?"

"You gonna buy me somethin'?"

"No, I'm just curious when it is."

He thought for a moment then said, "Next year I think."

That blew the twelve year old claim. He was probably a year or so
younger. Was this a boy I could be involved long term with? He seemed
lonely, in need of someone to guide him.

I asked, "How much is seven plus six?"

More thinking then, "Eleven?"

"Three plus seven?"

Fidgiting. "How come you're askin' that? You a teacher?"

"No, just curious. Three plus seven."

"Six."

So there it was. My little friend wasn't going to be a rocket scientist,
possibly didn't go to school at all.

I paid for services rendered, got another hug from Willy and a curious look
from Sean, agreed to keep an eye out for them on the Square, and sent them
on their way ahead of me. Once again, the desk clerk, at the time engrossed
with a tabloid laid across the counter, ignored me as I left.

Estiven was half an hour late but what he brought with him made up for
it. No Manuel but two very good looking kids, one actually beautiful. He
didn't apologize for his tardiness, just asked if he should walk up to my
house with me or let me go first so the door would be open. I asked about
Manuel.

"He got a date with this other guy gonna take him somewhere. Anyway, I got
Tommy and Martin and they're good too."

 After another long look, I went ahead of them. For some reason, Walter
McNally's words came back to me. They were the hidden motivation behind my
desire for a single special boy but as I walked with three boys behind,
five bedded before that afternoon and another pair the night before, ten
boys in twenty-four hours, that persistent cloud of guilt again seeped into
my brain. I was in no way being of any help to the bevy of callboys I was
bedding though there probably were some who could surely benefit from it.

Sean that afternoon was being used by his brother, forcing him into sexual
acts he disliked. Would that affect him when he grew up as many
claimed. Plus, he was two grades behind or worse, partly because he wasn't
very bright but also due to a complete lack of adult concern and help.

Apart from troubled hustlers, there was Juan Carlos, a boy likely to grow
up as a dangerous criminal. His mother had lost control of him at the early
age of nine. And he seemed to be at least above average intellectually.

There'd probably not be any sex with a Sean or Juan Carlos but was I
permitted to let that get in the way of being the difference in their
futures? Why not someone like Justin who really enjoyed sex?

Rationalizations crept in to partially disperse the dark clouds. By going
with many, I was seeking the boy for whom I could be the most help, create
the greatest change in his future as well as those he'd affect throughout
his life. I cursed my weakness for sex with boys, for the constant drive to
seek new partners, new experiences, new bodies, numbers.

Why couldn't I have been born into a more morally strict culture than the
one back home? Was I hopelessly unable to change? There was no doubt that
Ned was addicted to numbers, the pursuit of more and more different
boys. What if the political climate changed back there or across the
country? Could he stop or slow down if needed? Could I?

Moral concerns evaporated when the three boys, two new and pretty, none
displaying the slightest timidity, came through my door. Clothes flew as
Estiven led them to my huge shower. The one named Tommy, whom I guessed to
be about eleven or twelve, had a gorgeous butt to match his attractive
face. The star, though, was Martin, about ten, with unblemished, smooth
brown flesh and a BL's dream body, at least mine: a great full torso with
strong legs, bulbous buns, a nice cock and a beautiful face with active,
sparkling eyes that augured intelligence. Uninvited, I joined them. Tommy,
smiling broadly, welcomed me with soapy hands that began washing me at the
neck.

I was in the hands of true professionals.

Estiven had said they were as good as Manuel who did everything but rim and
loved it. But where Manuel was probably gay, these two acted like normal
hetero boys, well, other than Tommy lathering up my dick and balls. But,
not knowing what a boy might do on top of the mattress was always one of
the seductive mysteries with new ones.

The mist of uncertainty was somewhat parted when Estiven whispered into my
ear as we dried that Tommy didn't mind getting screwed. Actually, he said
fuck. I'm trying to be delicate.

What I looked forward to was embracing and caressing Martin's sumptuous
body. On the other hand, fondling the great ass on Tommy, better still
pushing my cock between those mountainous cheeks and inside, was just as
enticing. I knew from before what Estiven wanted, the same as Sean's
abusive brother, my ass.

Martin, however, just lay on his back and played with himself. I slid in
beside him and took over. His skin was as silky smooth as it appeared. The
penis I took hold of was promptly hard as mahogany and the same color. He
slowly pushed his hips up as I ran a finger under his balls right down
between his legs on each downward stroke. I put an arm under his neck and
gently pulled his far shoulder toward me. There was no resistance. He
allowed chest to chest contact keeping his middle twisted back so the
masturbation could continue. I kissed his cheek. He turned his face into my
neck. This was as close as I was going to get.

After my second peck, he pushed my head downward. Rather than go right for
the gold, I experimented. Lots of boys are very erotically excited by
tender sucking on their neck. Though he kept his chin down at first, his
head went straight back the second time I ran my tongue across his immature
Adam's apple, around and up to the bottom of his jaw. It raised my cock to
full staff.

After thoroughly licking and sucking his throat side to side, jaw to chest
bone, I nudged his right arm up, then went into another frequently exciting
area, his armpit, and sucked and licked there. As with his neck, he raised
his arm higher, eventually pressing my head inward for greater
contact. From there, I moved across his chest, sucking tits as I passed
them, to the other side. I didn't have to touch it for him to raise his
left arm.

Finally leaving saliva tracks chin to belly, I licked my way down to his
groin where, rather than touch his waiting stone hard cock, I went down
between his legs, licking the inside of his thighs, along his perineum then
sucked in his little boy balls in their wonderfully loose sack. But,
passion overrode the feelings I was providing. He tugged my head up to his
cock.

Sucking slowly to avoid a premature end to my erotic journey with this
sweet boy, I slipped his dick under my tongue and took in his balls,
revolving my head to spread the joy around. He put his hands lightly on my
hair and followed it around while indicating he wanted up and down.

As I sucked, I pushed my cock into his side and pumped away without any
attempt on his part to stop me.

Happily, that took more time than I anticipated. When the end neared, he
was pumping hard up into my mouth. Who says ten year olds can't enjoy sex?
His climax was strong and prolonged.

When I turned around and gave him a hug, he returned it. That's when I saw
Estiven on top of Tommy slowly pumping in and out though I wasn't sure if
he was actually inside him or just between his legs. Estiven caught my
concern and raised up showing that he'd only been going the intercrural
route. I was still going to be penetrated while I was doing the same to
Tommy, hopefully.

Seeing me free, Tommy crawled over Martin right up on top of my chest,
immediately planting an open mouthed, tongue extended kiss while reaching
for my erection and fondling it. A few minutes later while sucking on my
tongue, almost pulling it out of its anchorage, he pushed my dong up
between his legs and clamped it in, humping his dick into my gut, giving
mine a thigh massage at the same time. Had it been wet and slippery back
there, I'd have shot all over him.

From there I turned us around in hopes of a sixty-nine. His cock was
delicious but mine was only massaged until Estiven tugged Tommy's head up
and over me. I felt a little guilty but the blow job was far too good to
stop him. It was so good, I worried I wouldn't get a chance to explore his
innards. I breathed hard between lip dips and stayed as relaxed as
possible. It worked.

Tommy patted me on the temple and pointed at his backside. I gave his cock
a farewell tongue and lip massage then sat up and went into the side table
for the KY. Tommy rolled over and poked his ass up in the air. I lay in a
layer of sexual lubricant. Up on my knees, I pulled him to the required
level and put my saliva covered organ at his anus. Ease of entry pointed to
repeated use of that orifice. He moved his hips side to side, sloshing my
cock around inside his rectum and likely his little prostate. Reaching
under I found his penis still as bloated as it had been inside my mouth.

Slow fucking along with his gyrations sent wonderful sensations throughout
my middle but that wasn't going to last very long.

Estiven whispered into my ear again. "Lay down so I can do it too."

Straddling me this time, staying up on his extended arms, Estiven went
straight to my hole and shoved inside, immediately thrusting fast and
hard. He too had made use of the KY. With that going on behind, it took
little effort on my part to keep myself on the edge of the extreme high of
orgasm.

Martin, probably turned on by the visual eroticism walked on his knees over
Tommy's head and pushed his hard on at my face. It was slightly
uncomfortable bending my neck at a forty-five degree angle but,
fortunately, Martin did all the work, thrusting into my mouth with those
beautiful hips of his. I reached back with one hand and cupped a flexing
bun.

I came first, soaking Tommy's inside with my gushing emissions. Martin,
confirming the ability of the young to climax time after time, came next,
hugging my head to his groin while he had that long orgasm of his. Estiven
took a while longer making me suspect he had been inside Tommy earlier but
he too eventually throbbed inside me.

Since there'd been no time to talk before the action began, I invited them
to have something to eat. There were four different kinds of cereal, eggs,
ham, cheese, bread, various fruits and salad type veggies. Tommy wanted
eggs and added cheese to make an omelet which Estiven decided he liked as
well, so convinced Tommy to make another which he did with some skill. They
looked so good, I asked him to make me one too. He liked that and added an
extra egg since I was bigger. Martin preferred Cheerios.

Interrogations were easy. The three lived together with Martin's mother and
sister in a project up on One Hundred and Fifty-Fifth Street in upper
Manhattan. Estiven's mother had run off with another man leaving him and
his two little brothers outside the door of Martin's mother's apartment. He
had no idea who his or his little brother's fathers had been, just, since
his little brothers looked nothing like him, that there had been more than
one. After a drug arrest, Tommy's mother had jumped bail and gone back to
Puerto Rico. Her husband, not wanting to care for her brood of four alone,
took off the same day leaving Martin's mother with an additional boy, two
younger girls and their baby brother. An uncle stayed with them
occasionally, contributing money while he was there. Tommy's eighteen year
old half brother lived with them and, along with Martin's mother, who
worked in a nearby store, brought in just enough income to eat. Estiven
admitted he really wasn't going to school because Teresa Santos, Martin's
mother, with three children by another absentee father who paid no child
support, just couldn't afford it and, after all, he wasn't hers. More
important, there were twelve mouths to feed.

Tommy Porres, eleven, was in fourth grade after failing first, mostly for
erratic attendance. Martin, ten, was in fourth also but in a different
class. He claimed very high grades while Tommy said only that he was
passing. Estiven Miranda had been in fifth when his mother left him.

I asked them individually a series of math problems. Tommy, surprisingly
enough was the best at solving a problem involving a cross country drive
and three operations. Martin at least figured out what he'd done. Estiven
never understood.

Questions about what they did all week brought out significantly diverging
interests and goals. Estiven wanted to be a taxi driver and liked to hang
around auto shops. Tommy preferred comic books and swimming and just wanted
a job someday. The biggest surprise of all was Martin's love of reading but
doing so up on the roof of their project or anywhere he could be alone. He
wanted to be a teacher.

When I asked about sports, only Estiven professed interest, mostly in
playing basketball.

Possibly because there was a TV to watch, they, actually Estiven, the boss,
decided they would spend the night. Tommy argued briefly in Spanish. When I
insisted on a translation, Estiven admitted Tommy had a date. Estiven asked
if he could use my telephone. He called the date and told him Tommy was
sick but maybe he could see him the next day. That got worked out and I was
able to get off again.

By the time they left Sunday mid morning, I was sure I had my special boy
in Martin and saw no problem with the others tagging along, especially
Tommy with that great backside of his. Martin and I both loved to read,
and, he wanted to be a teacher. It was highly unlikely his mother had the
resources to get him through high school. I could provide whatever he
needed and the guidance and academic help he might require to go all the
way through college.

Still, by four in the afternoon, I couldn't resist the draw of Times
Square. There I picked up two new boys and took them to the accommodating
hotel. Their Forty-Second Street stretches didn't satisfy my lust so I
found another single with a nice face who gave me a hand job for an extra
dollar

After leaving the last boy at Tenth Avenue and Forty-Second Street, you'd
think I'd be physically if not emotionally satisfied, but, on reaching
Forty-Third Street, I turned right and headed back toward the Square coming
out above the games parlor. It was full, including a few men, none the one
I'd been hoping to find. The games hustler was there with a mark in a dress
shirt and tie. Two of the `stretch' boys I'd had before were there but far
too involved with racking up points on a pinball machine to notice my
passing. Since no one inside showed any interest in me, I went back out to
the street and turned up Forty-Second. One of a pair of gaudily dressed,
clearly gay teens pursed his lips at me. Another single teen nodded my
way. I smiled at each but didn't slow. What I was seeking was in front of a
porn shop, his attention flitting between something inside and up the
sidewalk. My approach switched that attention to business. He was cute,
white, and no more then eleven, an age one generally encountered with a
friend.

He gave a great blow job for three dollars from a sixty-nine position but
squirmed more than usual, that because he was trying to get hold of my
pants on the floor beside the bed, a trick a few of the kids had tried but
never successfully. The moment I realized what he was up to, I pulled him
on top of me. No sense losing his competent lips due to his incompetent
thieving ability. His punishment was a mouthful of unexpected sperm which
he promptly spit all over my mid section.

"You were supposed to say before!" he exclaimed with cum dripping out of
his mouth and nose.

"You weren't supposed to try to rob me," I replied with a smile.

"I din't steal nothin'."

I dragged him to me by the arm. I think he expected me to smack him because
he ducked his head and tried to get away until I put my arms around him and
said, "Don't worry. I'm not gonna do anything but talk."

He folded his arms across his bare belly.

"Stealing from customers is bad business. A lot of the men know each
other," I guessed. "Word gets out that you're a thief and you're gonna lose
more than you might steal. Now, go wash your mouth out."

He yanked loose and marched into the bathroom. I heard him gargle several
times. I gave him an extra quarter to buy some breath mints. He didn't
thank me.

When I got back to Forty-Two for one last look inside the games parlor, my
little would be thief was standing right where I'd found him. He frowned
and looked away as I passed by.

The man I sought still wasn't in the games shop.

Monday, it was back to work. McLeary didn't show up, forcing me to unclog a
toilet and repair a water leak in a wreck of an apartment on Ninth
Avenue. As I may have mentioned, Ninth Avenue was principally Irish, my
ancestors. They, as a group, were the most destructive of their living
quarters, far more than any of the Latinos. The leak was under a kitchen
sink. I had to continually brush off cockroaches.

My plumber called in that night to tell me he'd taken a `mighty fall' down
some stairs. The doctor at the hospital his wife drove him to had told him
not to do anything with his injured arm and shoulder that week. Could I
loan him some money to pay the medical bill? I did.

By Wednesday, I was so agitated by the shit and garbage in clogged or
damaged drains that, after a long shower, three times soaping up and
scrubbing every inch of my body, I went back to Times Square hoping the boy
I expected to get intimate with wasn't going to endure any unpleasant
smells. I carried only twenty-five dollars with me, limiting myself to just
one use of the hotel room.

With school vacations in force, there was no disappointment in
availabilities. I chose a pair of white boys, one a blond with a crew cut,
and accepted their terms. Suck them: two fifty each. Suck me: additional
dollar. Intercrural fucking: fifty cents more. Their specs.

	After a calm argument about who had sucked their last customer the
previous Sunday, the blonde took on the task of sucking my cock from
between my legs instead of head to groin as I preferred. That was because
his friend wanted to get off again. He straddled my chest, presented his
growing organ then fucked my mouth getting off ahead of me, mostly because,
with all the violence in my face, it was hard to concentrate below. As also
agreed, I shot my load into a wad of toilet paper.

	After another discussion, they decided I should meet them again
Sunday afternoon at three in the Port Authority bus terminal near the
ticket sellers. I promised to think about it.

	"Can you loan us two dollars? You can take it off what you pay us
Sunday."

"Sorry, only got enough for the subway and bus to get me home."

They went out to hustle some more. I headed back to the games parlor. My
man was there!

"Hi. I didn't get a chance to thank you for keeping me from wasting my time
and money on that kid."

He gave me a strange look. "What kid? Do I know you?" He had a strong New
York accent.

"Remember that night I was giving that kid money for the machines and you
told me he didn't go out with anybody?"

He shook his head and walked quickly around the machines and out the door,
probably certain I was a cop.

`Good job, asshole' I grumbled to myself.

A sweet upturned face broke into my self debasement. "Got a quarter?"

One came automatically out of my pocket.

"You wan' me to go wif you after I play thith game?" He had a nasty lisp,
not the gay kind, the speech impediment type.

With insufficient money for the hotel or even the sex, I told him, "Just
spent most of what I got."

"We can go to yer houth." He wasn't from New York but not from down my way
either.

It was tempting. Dark had fallen but, still, someone was sure to see him,
with his unknown face, go down my stairs and inside. But, would they care?
No one had said anything about the others or even seemed to notice. And, he
was a nice looking kid, no more than twelve, longish brown hair, appealing
eyes and, from what I could see under his red and green striped jersey, had
a tough little body. But, but...

"Maybe tomorrow or Friday."

He leaned into me and said as softly as was possible for me to hear with
the racket of all the machine and shouting by winners and losers, "I don't
got no playth to thleep tonight. My mom's all pithed off. I go home tonight
an' she gonna beat the shit outta me."

"Where you live?"

"Brooklyn. Let me go wif you. I can do `tuff but ev'rybody's saying they
don' wanna. Pleath, I don't wanna thleep in a alley or nothin'. Cop might
get me."

He won. He spent his quarter on the claw machine, coming up with air.

When we got back into the better lighting of my apartment, the dirt around
his neck was apparent. He happily accepted a suggestion to bathe.

"You can come in to," he informed as he pulled his jersey over his head. He
did have a nice body with tight little pectorals. His cock and ass weren't
as interesting.

In the shower, half expecting a blow job, I found he only planned to wash
me which he did, all over, but not showing any special attention to my more
sensitive parts though he did he did use a finger to clean my butt hole.

"Can I eat thomething' before we get inta bed?"

I made him a sandwich which he devoured casually. As he chewed, I inquired,
"Where do you live, really, on the street?"

He examined his sandwich before swallowing and replying, "Not all that
much. Just thome timeth but I'm gonna go home tomorrow, promith."

"You go to school?"

"Uh huh, but it's thtill vacation. I'm in third grade."

His age? "I'm thirteen, jutht little is all."

In bed, the stuff he promised consisted of affectionate kissing and
masturbation. When that didn't work, I convinced him to let me lather up
his thighs and perineum and screw him between the legs. He insisted on it
being done from the front. It was still nice.

He was asleep before I could get him off with my lips.

Waking him up at 7AM was difficult. Once I'd gotten him to his feet, he
walked on the wrong side of the bathroom door and bumped into the wall just
like in a Red Skelton skit (How's that for showing my age?). Stiffling my
laughter, I guided him into the shower and held onto him while getting the
water warm. Bathing woke him up.

I felt sorry after breakfast getting him on his way, but there were calls
to be made, employees to be directed to jobs and then leave for work
myself. An uptown agent had window repairs that needed to be done; not the
glass, the whole window. Rather than take the generally preferred subway, I
drove the pickup since it was probably going to be necessary to buy lumber
if not a whole new window assembly.

The lady of the premises had three beautiful sons between about five and
ten years old. The eldest, another Martin, wanted to help. When he climbed
up on my stepladder, one foot above the other, I noticed he wasn't wearing
anything under his shorts. The repair took longer than it should have as I
tried to engineer things he could do that would expose his fine cock and
balls.

Toward the end, I gave him a hug which he returned with greater fervor than
expected. I had to keep reminding myself not to be tempted by boys in the
apartments of my only customer. I still gave him a dollar.


Friday evening I went through four boys in three trips to the short time
hotel, none of whom did anything to me, though one named Dudley, twelve,
from New Jersey, got kind of crazy as he closed in on climax. I'd be
looking for him again. I was going through money like popcorn.

Saturday after lunch, a shower and a visit to an Eighth Avenue supermarket
to stock up for my all night guests, I bumped into Jake and Justin, the
latter, along with very pleasant petting, again providing another great, if
erratic, blow job.

Temporarily without horns, I went to a movie, El Cid starring Charlton
Heston. I imagined what it would be like if the Cid could have the same
privileges with young boys.

It was five thirty when I got out. Estiven and Tommy were in the games
parlor without Martin.

"He hadda stay home and watch kids `cause his mother gotta work late but
he's gonna come to your house when she gets home."

"She's gonna let him go out late and stay away until tomorrow?"

"Sure. He's gonna tell `er he's gonna go to William's house and sleep. She
don't care `cause she thinks we're there too and she ain't gotta spend no
food on us."

We stopped at Nathan's for foot long hot dogs, theirs covered with every
sauce and relish available. I made do with mustard. Rather than buy drinks
there, we went across the street to an orange juice emporium for large
cupfuls. All was consumed by the time we got home.

Martin showed up at a few minutes after ten. Bedtime was again very
fulfilling. Martin allowed a few lips to lips kisses but with a closed
mouth. Tommy was more forthcoming with his oral action, both up and
down. Fucking him with Estiven pumping away inside me was as good as the
first time.

Best of all, Martin cuddled up when I put an arm under his head. I was
still awake when Estiven got his rocks off a second time inside Tommy who
appeared to sleep through it.

In the morning, with Martin still in my arms, we lay around the bed talking
about their lives, hopes and dreams. Estiven still wanted to be a mechanic
but on subway trains. Tommy wasn't sure if he should drive a subway train
or be a fireman.

"Firemen make good money," he commented with arms behind his head, "This
one man lives in Queens is one and he gots a really nice house with a
television and a car."

Martin had the same goal of becoming a teacher but thought maybe in high
school instead of primary grades. "The kids in my school only wanna play
around and bother people. Most of `em don't do homework. I do and it's why
I get better grades than those schmucks."

The last word initiated a debate regarding from whom Martin learned it.

"It was that guy down by Fourteenth gots them statues of naked boys,"
argued Estiven.

Tommy was sure it was a `jew' who took them to a hotel on the Eastside
"where they gots a swimming pool and everybody's naked."

"That's the YMCA, stupid," interjected Estiven.

"Nah, remember that guy from Jersey takes us to his friend's house up by
the park? He calls everybody a schmuck, even me sometimes."

"What do you think it means?" I asked.

"Stupid," replied Estiven first.

"Unh uh," disagreed Martin. "It means lots a things like doing something
stupid or..."

"That's what I said," interrupted Estiven.

"Unh uh. You said it was somebody was stupid. You do stupid things and you
ain't stupid, not all the time."

"Like you!"

I changed the subject. "You guys ready to go back to school after Labor
Day?" It was only a week and a half away.

While Estiven was unhappy about it because it would leave him alone most of
the day, he did look forward to making a lot of money hustling over the
holiday weekend.

"I'm gonna buy me a transistor radio."

"If I buy the things you need, will you go back to school?" I asked him.

He stared at me for a moment.

Martin encouraged, "Shit, do it, stupid."

Estiven pursed his lips then said, "They ain't gonna let me. I'm only in
third grade and I'm gonna be fourteen." That was one or two grades lower
then he'd told me a couple of weeks before. "Anyway, if Aunt Teresa finds
out a man's buying me stuff, she's gonna know we're hustling."

"Can't you say you were working, like odd jobs or something?" I suggested.

Martin explained. "There was this man come to the house last year and this
other kid knew him and told this other kid he was a fag and he told his
mother and she told my mother. She was really pissed. We couldn't go
nowhere for a month. She'll know."

That was disheartening. I'd hoped to connect with Martin's mother so I
could help him in a significant way.

"Let me think about that. Maybe I can figure something out."

"They still ain't gonna let me back in."

While Tommy was resigned to his loss of freedom, Martin looked forward to
fifth grade and a teacher he admired. "She gets you all kinds a books about
different stuff like science and all. And she likes me."

"Why's that?" I inquired.

"She says I'm smart and she likes my eyes." He grinned.

"I do too, both things, smart and eyes."

He cuddled tighter into me.

 To make some extra cash, Estiven suggested Tommy show me some "other ways
he can fuck you". The `other ways' I'd already done with a number of boys
back home but it was good anyway. At first, he sat on me, wiggled around
then bounced up and down for a while.

"Tell me if you're gonna cum. I'll stop so we can do some more."

I got the impression he was proud of his anal skills.

Unfortunately, he was much too skilled and I said stop way too late. Even
sitting still, I unloaded into him.

We agreed he'd show me more next time.

He must have really satisfied my lust because it was easy to resist the
urge to go cruising for the rest of the day.

Around six while I was sitting on the stoop of my building in the not so
fresh but open air reading a book, Juan Carlos, the boy from the broken
sink apartment passed by and nodded at me. I smiled. When he came back, he
stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaned against the railing and asked,
"How come you yelled at me that day?"

"You mean when you bad mouthed your mother in front of everybody?"

That produced a frown, silence and a sullen departure.