Date: Thu, 6 Aug 2020 11:59:04 -0400 From: MC VT Subject: Protest Gay Adult-Youth Protest ©MCVT2017 August 4, 2020 Young entrepreneurs work the traffic jam waiting for a protest to finish. Support Nifty with a donation: http://donate.nifty.org/ 100% Fiction, adult content, Mb, pros, bottom-button, pineapple-pepperoni pizza. Last overpass, on the downhill entering the city when everything ahead stopped. Rows of bright tail lights for as far as I could see ahead. Horns honked, drivers cursed, banged on steering wheels, I turned on the radio: "...protests continue, circling the downtown area. The major group is meeting with large organized groups from each major street they reach. This is a big one, they're circling the city, then going toward city hall. Thousands, hundreds of thousands... Traffic on all streets in and out of the downtown area is blocked. From our `eye in the sky' it looks like the city's shut down for the next eight to ten hours...." I woulda been walking into the diner at 6:30 but not today. Needed to pee. Being in the far-right lane, next to the shoulder of the road, I checked the side mirror; motorcyclists were using it. Can't pee on the tire and look like I'm adjusting the wiper blade. Hmmm. Dug through the trash bag and found a soda can. My truck kept me high enough I had privacy between my legs. No semis around, filled the can and carefully set it in the drink holder, tossed it under my SUV. Opened the windows half way, turned off the engine and lay my head back, resting. Watched drivers get out and start arguing. Some began walking toward the downtown area, abandoning their cars. I'd wait a while longer, see what happened. Federal troop trucks were stuck in traffic as well. I heard the heavy thoompa-thoompa; military helicopters cruised around the tall buildings. Citizens had their firepower and their weapons, but I was at too far away to worry about what was going to happen in the chaos. In the distance, I heard the drums and chants. Sun was setting behind me, I turned glancing at my bed for the night; I could put the seats down, relax enough to doze. Got out and walked, sizing up my situation. About half the cars were empty now, more motorists from further back streamed past--going downtown. No taxis, no cars or busses. Streets were all blocked ahead. Maybe the DOT would tow enough to clear a lane later. I imagined the walkers thought were going to get a hotel room downtown. Good luck, suckers. Three more highways fed through the area all with the same back-up. ... Got dark, I turned on the engine and charged my phone, listening to the news. Predicted a light rain. As I got out to recline the back seats, I see two boys, about ten or eleven, scruffy-looking lads. They pushed a four-foot long cart carrying five-gallon buckets and flattened cardboard boxes. Took both of them leaning forward to push their cart between the cars. Dang, if the boys weren't selling water, beer, and snacks. Every car with anyone in it rolled the window down and bought something. Clever boys, American entrepreneurship in action. They pushed the cart up to my SUV, "Beer, mister?" "How much?" They were all white-label generic store brand. "Ten." They weren't even cool. "Ten dollars for one beer? Highway robbery." "Supply and demand. Want a beer, or a sandwich? Chips? Granola bar?" Settled for a seven-dollar bottle of water. "You know this is illegal?" "So call a cop." They wandered to the next car waving an orange and red bag of chips, other hand pulling the cart. Watched them in the mirror as they pushed their cart up and down between the cars. Later I heard them again. Came to the shoulder of the road about ten cars back. With the cardboard and duct tape, they set up a three-foot high, three-wall affair; sat one of their empty buckets inside. Then they began selling toilet tissue for the folks relieving themselves at the side of the road as the street lights came on. "Hustlers." I chuckled. More people walked, jogged between the cars hoping to get into some kind of shelter for the night. Two hunky mattress delivery drivers got out and opened the back and crawled in to sleep there. ... The boys were kinda unkempt in baggy jeans, faded tee shirts, worn shoes. Needed haircuts, probably a bath by now. That reminded me, I had a full box of wipes in the glove box. Wiped my face and hands, grabbed my keys and got in the back, head on my wadded jacket. Took my shoes off as I heard gunfire in the distance, maybe firecrackers. Flipped on my phone and watched the news; chaotic downtown but quiet around me. About an hour later I heard the kids pulling their cart near, tapped on the window. The boys were back with buckets over the back of their heads, a light rain fell. "Good time?" The taller boy pressed a condom onto the window. "Hey, mister. Good time?" I cracked the door open, "You're kidding?" "Boy-butt, three-hundred. BJ's, a hundred." He licked his lips and smiled, held up a phone with credit card reader. "Why don't you two go down to the protests and look for the pervs hanging around the back of the crowd?" "They know us from lifting wallets." "You could get hurt." I opened the door, "Stay here till the rain stops." They huddled together, agreeing. They were both tired. Shoved their cart against the tire and got in the back with me. Found the box of wipes, "Get cleaned up, you can stay here for the night. I'll drop you off when we can get out of here." Turned on the light on my phone, held out the box of wipes. "Only five dollars apiece, help yourselves. You're loaded after rooking everyone stuck in traffic." In unison, "I'll stink." They lay down together, neatly aligned one in front of the other, bent arms under their heads like they'd done this before. Shoved them over and the three of us lay between the wheel housings, close. I opened the windows slightly; the boys were damp, smelling ripe. Started raining harder as we lay together, they fell asleep. I watched them under the dim glow of a street light. ... Gunfire in the distance, lotta noise downtown; spot lights, searchlights lit the smoke and mist. Quiet around the car until I hear someone rapping knuckles on the driver's side window. My glass is tinted darkly, "Whadda want?" "Sammy-boy, you in there? I got the money transferred." Big guy, looked like one of the mattress delivery guys. "C'mon boy, good-time me." The older boy roused, sat up. "Damn." He scooted over to the door and left with the man, taking his phone, swiping the man's card, leaving his phone with the smaller kid. "Your brother?" "My boyfriend." "Aren't you worried someone will hurt him, like beat him up?" "We got their account info, enough protection. They're just looking for a quick fuck, thirty minutes at most." "They're pervs and you're just feeding their illness." "We call `em clients." He turned away from me, nestling his rear in my groin. ... Started raining hard. Sound of the storm hid the noise of the protests a half-mile away; air was wet and warm. Pulled the boy close. Long time since I had a warm body next to me. This boy's body was relaxed in a curl against my torso, must be asleep. Can't understand why my hand went to his jeans, I rubbed my curious fingers over his kit. Tough, thick zipper, I unsnapped and slipped my hand inside. My hand could span the soft valley between his hips. Skinny boy. He didn't move, could be he liked it. I would. Damp briefs, I shoved my hand under the wide elastic waistband. My fingertips found a warm, fleshy playground--pulled my hand out and sniffed. Pure boy, not so strong, but a touch of pee behind sweat, spilled energy drink, and something else... what was that smell? Cheese curls or corn chips--this boy had a lot of what excited me. As my fingertips danced around my nostrils, I took several slow breaths. He turned. "Like that, huh?" Too dark for him to see my face burning red. "I used to smell like that. It's nostalgic." I was so hard, it hurt, dick straining to escape, I bent myself so he wouldn't feel it. "Sure." He sounded doubtful. "Boy-butt?" Held up the phone with the credit card reader. Pulled him close, sniffed his hair as I did some quick calculations. My conscience was screaming like a fire alarm but didn't slow my libido. Three hundred was way out of my budget, I cleaned commercial carpets for fancy offices, restaurants. Couldn't afford it. Blow was a hundred. Expensive, I'd try negotiating. "How much for a hand job?" He laughed, then told me they weren't worth his time. Can't figure out how I got caught up in all this, but he said he'd let me cum on his tummy for ten dollars, "But no touching, no kissing--that's extra." I had to clean him up and give him three towelettes as well. Deal made; he held his hand out. Had to clean out my wallet and give him all the change from my ashtray. Unzipped so fast I made sparks, struggled to get myself unclothed. Big ol' nasty dick popped out throwing strings of precum everywhere. He simply sat up and took his shirt off. "Hey, pants too. I wanna look." Full ten dollar's-worth, I wanted to see what smelled so good. Pushed his ragged pants and briefs down, said nothing, just lay back and gave me the "No touching" warning with his eyes. Only need one leg out, I kicked one shoe off and withdrew my leg. On my hands and knees, I hovered above. Arising aroma from the boy, along with my musk made me almost dizzy. Thought about his slender legs over my shoulders, `boy-butt." Damn, that thought heated my balls just the idea of pushing my rod into that tight hole, that first kiss of his ass around my head. Oh, yeah that would be next best thing to pineapple-pepperoni pizza. Wondered why I never thought of mini-ass before. Needed to feel his lips on mine, taste his tongue but couldn't do anything to make him scream, didn't know who was around. Tripod'ed above him, "You like this?" Eyes flashed in the dim light, he looked downward, "It's better with Daddy." My heart skipped a beat, I looked down. My juice was coating his navel. "Daddy?" His daddy jerked off over him? Had to squeeze my dick tight thinking about that. "I like it best when he's in my bum. You know, rubbing my bottom-button with his cock." My saliva dripped on his thin chest hearing that, my voice wiggled, "All the way in your butt?" Cocked his head to the side, "Never got a half-fuck. Is that a real thing?" My thighs were trembling, balls pulling up tight, "Half-fuck." I had to laugh at myself, but got back on track, "Maybe a finger up your ass is like a half-fuck." I suggested. He beamed, "That's called a warm-up." Warm-up, half-fuck. I used to love that when I was his age, absolutely sent me into orbit. Almost fainted when the boy below me tweaked his nipples and grabbed his short rod, almost three inches with a short, pale foreskin that immediately retracted showing me a marble-sized glans. He was covered with my slippery mess, and joined with me. Eyes locked, short forearms pumped along in time with mine. "Ungh. Ungh." Soft grunts he made sent sharp stings of electricity through me. Looked down at his naked groin, perfect. Perfect little balls were tight against his body--he was about to cum. Needed to lick him, taste me on him. He saw me. "No touching!" But damn, I wanted to. My sweat dripped from my scalp into my eyes. Shirt stuck to my body. Knees ached; thighs shook. Incredible thoughts, explosive feelings. This boy excited me, "You're so, so--damn hot...." Couldn't see my hand clearly it was pumping so fast, just a blur as my deep need howled though my guts in release. Watched him shut his eyes, turn his head. He continued grunting and stroking while I shot again and again. Covered his chest with three large blobs, plenty of extra juice. Though it was almost too much, I continued milking my cock till nothing came out. Up on my knees, I relaxed against the door, catching my breath. In slow motion I pulled the box of wipes out, used a few on him; tossed him three. Wiped down and lowered the windows. Still raining hard outside. Half dressed, I assumed my previous position behind him and pulled him against my chest. Opened my phone. Protests continued. Made it feel even more snug as I nuzzled his hair, "Does your daddy really fuck you?" "How do you think me and Sammy learned to trick?" That was intriguing. "You like a man-cock up your ass?" "I like three-hundred dollars." Could only hope that if those protests changed anything, this boy would survive to enjoy it. Kissed his hair, "Can I have your number?" End. Protest MCVT2017@gmail.com