Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2004 18:40:41 EST
From: Badgod69@aol.com
Subject: PUNKBOY, Day 3

The last day and night that Skunk spent at my apartment was the most
eventful of the 3 days he was with me.  Not only would I learn much more
about him from a well-timed phone call during the day, but that evening I
also saw a much wilder side to him than I had hitherto experienced.

The morning of my last day with Skunk was unreal.  I had gotten wasted the
night before and I only got a few hours of sleep.  When I literally
staggered out of the sofa bed and got ready for work I debated on whether
or not to wake Skunk up, who was sleeping in my bed.  After the amount of
whiskey and weed that he had consumed with me the night before, I decided
I'd let him sleep in.  I was positive he would skip school again today, but
I figured after how much fun we'd had the night before I'd let it slide.

I had to go into my bedroom several times while getting ready for work.
The first time I walked in I entered slowly and quietly.  I wanted to see
what the unguarded, attitude-free, vulnerable, naked punk kid in my bed
looked like.  He was sprawled all over the queen-size mattress, and the
covers had slipped down to just below his hips so that the top third of his
luscious ass was exposed.  I could see a tantalizing glimpse of his crack.
His right leg was drawn up and his legs were spread fairly wide under the
blankets.  One arm was flung off the side of the bed and the other was
crooked above his head.  His face was turned towards the door, so I could
see it very clearly as soon as I walked in.  Imagine coming upon the
sleeping Peter Pan in his nest of a bed, hair dirty and hopelessly unkempt,
his unnaturally pale elfin skin flushed scarlet at his cheeks.  The little
bow of a boy's mouth with tender red lips, parted, quietly, quietly snoring
away.  The little white teeth, also slightly parted, and the thin thread of
saliva drooling out of the corner of his sweet mouth.  The impossibly thin
skin of his strange, almond shaped eyelids, one pale, the other bruised,
and the blueness of the veins running through them, thick blond eyelashes
sweeping the tender skin below his eyes.  That's what I saw.  He looked
amazing.  And knowing that this sweet repose was brought on by drinking a
good half bottle of Crown Royal and smoking close to a 1/4 oz. of weed
while fucking himself with a dildo with me at his side made it even more
spectacular.  I went over to him, knowing that he'd never know what I was
going to do, and kissed his cool forehead and went about my business.  He
looked so innocent and smelled so wild.

By the time I got to my office at the theatre I was feeling a bit more
awake and alert.  Still, I knew that this day would be a challenge due to
the crazed excesses of the night before.  I was in the middle of reading
some fair-to-terrible student-written scripts when my phone rang.  The
receptionist told me I had an incoming call so I punched my extension and
said hello.

When the woman on the other end identified herself as Mrs. C***** I had no
idea who I was talking to.  She shed a great deal more light when she told
me she was Alan's mother.  I knew by now that Alan was Skunk's given name,
so I immediately tried to shake last night's fumes from my toxified brain.
I knew that this would be an important phone call and I needed to have a
clear head.  The day before I had arranged an appointment for Skunk and his
parents with a therapist friend of mine who I knew worked well with
adolescents and their families.  I had then left a message at Skunk's home,
asking one or the other of his parents to call me at the theatre to discuss
Skunk's situation and some possible remedies.

We talked for nearly an hour.  I learned much about the kid I had left
sleeping peacefully in my bed at home.  Some of what I learned was very
surprising and a little bit shocking.  Without relaying the entire
conversation, she and her husband agreed to enter into some family
counseling sessions with the therapist.  His mom seemed a bit surprised
when I told her that Skunk had agreed to attend these sessions with her and
Skunk's father.  Apparently they had been trying for months to get him into
individual counseling or family therapy, to no avail.  Skunk had left the
house for days at a time whenever his parents would bring up the subject.
She was amused and puzzled by the fact that he had agreed so readily to my
suggestion.  When I explained to her that I had issued Skunk the ultimatum
that he either agree to this scenario or look for another place to stay for
a few days, she began to understand.  However, she also told me that she
had issued similar threats to 'Alan' but with far different results.  I
suggested that maybe Skunk had run out of options or else was sincerely
interested in bettering his relationship with his family.  She didn't sound
terribly convinced, but she was thankful for my willingness to help her son
in this situation.  Skunk had agreed to go home the next day and attend his
first session with my counselor friend a couple of days later.  His mother
agreed that I would drop Skunk off at his home the next day, a Saturday.
What really surprised me was that the address she gave me was in Piedmont,
an exclusive, old-money neighborhood where the 'homes' were more on the
scale of mansions, a neighborhood full of magnificent dwellings built
during the first decade of the 20th century.  I had assumed that Skunk was
from a lower middle-class family and neighborhood, but no, he was a rich
boy.  His rebellion began to make all the more sense to me.

What shocked me was her telling me that she suspected Skunk was hustling
whenever he would disappear for several days at a time.  I asked her why
she thought this and she gave me a number of reasons: on more than one
occasion, strangers had dropped Skunk off at his house, but he would never
say anything about who these guys were, even when asked point blank.  He
always had more money than he'd left home with when he'd return.  I asked
her if it wasn't more likely that the money came from drug deals, and while
she agreed that this was a possibility, she still thought that he had
gotten the money by trading sexual favors.  She pointedly didn't offer any
more information or details, but she sounded pretty convinced.  She was
naturally worried for his health and to her credit never once did she say
anything that would lead me to believe she was homophobic.  I figured Skunk
to be bisexual from his behavior the previous 2 nights, but not primarily
queer.  However, the possibility that he was peddling his ass on the
streets was not unwarranted, especially if he was fueled with alcohol or
other substances.  I knew I'd have an interesting conversation with Skunk
later on that evening.  After working out some more details, his mom
thanked me again and hung up.

I sat in my office, confused and feeling a tad hypocritical.  What if
"Alan's" mother had known about what Skunk and I had been up to the last
couple of nights?  She certainly wouldn't be thanking me for taking such
good care of her boy.  And could I trust Skunk to keep his mouth shut about
what had gone on between us?  I thought I could, but what if he got wasted
and spilled his guts?  What if my therapist friend was a little too skilled
in getting him to open up?  The ramifications began to mount in my head and
I started to feel a bit panicky.

Thankfully, my classes went really well that day and my students presented
some amazing work for class critique. I have always been able to forget my
worries through good, creative work, and the kids came through extremely
well that day.  By quitting time I had gotten over my earlier panic and was
anxious to get home so I could quiz Skunk about what he did when he'd
disappear from home.

It was nearly 7 o'clock when I stepped inside my apartment building,
wondering what I would be confronted with this night.  When I reached my
floor I could hear loud punk rock blaring from my apartment.  Well, at
least I knew Skunk was home, not out on the street somewhere being sized up
by guys in their cars cruising around looking for a cute kid to fuck around
with.

When I opened the door I saw him leaping around my living room in his
wifebeater and boxers, moshing and what I call "air-slamming" -- slam
dancing with an invisible partner.  As soon as he saw me his strange eyes
blazed and he threw himself against me as hard as he could and knocked me
against the wall.  I had yet another large bag of groceries in my hands and
it went flying onto the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.  He took
me off guard and I didn't have time to decide if I was angry or exhilarated
by his energetic greeting.  I didn't have time because as soon as I
regained my balance he slammed hard into me again, again knocking me
backwards into the wall.  Suddenly, I felt incredibly amped and anxious to
knock him around some, too.  Just like the old days when I would skank and
wrestle around with my skinhead mate, Choke.  I let out a loud war-whoop
and slammed into Skunk while he was in mid-air, and brought him crashing to
the floor.  He laughed that loud donkey braying laugh of his, scrambled
back up from the floor and lunged at me. I jumped out of his way and then
threw myself onto his back, again knocking him to the ground.  We rolled
around the floor, laughing, kicking, punching and rolling over the
groceries.  All I could smell was the combined stink of our sweat and the
incongruous smell of chocolate on his breath.  Skunk rolled himself out
from under me, then leaped up and threw himself on top of me. I was flat on
my back and he forced my legs apart with his knees, smiling like a lunatic
all the while, puffing his hot, chocolatey breath in my face.  Peter Pan
bests the wicked Captain Hook!, I thought to myself.  I stopped resisting
very much, just making play-acting attempts to free myself from his weight.
He started grinding his pelvis into my crotch and I could feel his dick
harden super fast.  I reached around him and cupped his little boy's ass
cheeks and squeezed them as hard as I could.  I knew it would hurt.  He
gave a loud yelp and rolled off me, laughing and gasping for breath.

"You crazy motherfucker!" I laughed back.

"Whoo!  Man, that felt great!" he said.  He stripped off his drenched
wifebeater and propped himself up on one arm and said, "C'mon, let's jump
around some more!"

He kept touching me, my jeans, my face, my chest, anything he could
reach. This surprised me because until now our actual physical contact had
been minimal.  His eyes were gleaming with a drugged glassiness and I
noticed that his pupils were huge.  He was also sweating profusely and his
hair was stuck to his forehead.  I guessed that he was either tweaking on
speed or tripping on acid or maybe Ecstasy.  Probably Ecstasy, I figured,
because his hands couldn't stop touching and feeling things.  He was moving
his body in a sinewy, cat-like way, sensual and wanting to be petted.

"What'd you take?" I asked him bluntly.

"A little bit of X," he answered with no hesitation.

"Where'd you get it?"

"A friend," was all he said.

"You already puke?  You OK?" I asked him, unsure as to how present he was
at the moment.

"Dude, I feel fuckin' AWESOME now!  But I need to get off."

I just sat there on the floor, looking at him writhing around feeling
things.  I laughed at him, teasingly, letting my laugh be as playfully
scornful and mocking as I could.  I loved fucking with people's heads when
they were drugged up.  Sometimes you had to be careful though, especially
if it was speed.  But he seemed mellow and happy and not at all aggro.

He started laughing, too, probably unaware or not caring that I was
laughing at his expense.

"Are you hungry at all?" I asked him, because I was starving.

"Nah, let's watch porn and get off," he said, his eyes glittering in his
pale face.

"Well, I need to eat, you fucking e-tard, so help me cook."

His piercing eyes widened when I called him an e-tard, surprised I guess
that somebody my age would know the term.  He laughed but didn't protest
when I got up and hauled his scrawny ass up off the floor.  As I turned to
walk to the kitchen he threw himself at me and wrapped his arms around me,
giving me a long, affectionate hug.

I hugged him back in a friendly way but I really was starving and needed to
eat.  I broke the hug after a few seconds and started to move into the
kitchen again.  He followed close behind me, grabbing my ass and trying to
unbuckle my belt.  I needed a drink.

I told him to stop and poured myself half a glassful of whiskey and downed
it fast.  I offered him some but he didn't want any.  That old familiar
warmth mellowed me right up and I told him firmly to back off me and get to
work on getting the table set.  I could tell that he had already peaked
quite a while ago because he was pretty well able to keep himself under
control.  But the wild desire for contact was definitely still active to
some degree.

I decided to jump right in.

"So, do you hustle when you leave your home for days?"

He looked at me open-mouthed for a second, then smiled and closed his eyes
before continuing to set the utensils out.

"You talked to my mother," was all he said.

"Yeah.  So, do you?"

"Dude, I do whatever I have to when I'm on the street to help me and my
friends out.  And I don't do anything I don't want to do, so don't start
lecturing me cuz to be honest I like doing it every once in a while.  It's
fun.  I can make a quick 50, easy.  I don't care who whacks me off or sucks
me off, dude, all I care about is gettin' my nut and makin' some cash."

I poured myself another shot or more.  Oh boy.  Now what do I say?

"OK, look."  I was getting pissed off because all I really wanted to do was
eat and shut up for a few minutes so I could think.

He stopped me before I could start.

"Dude, don't even bother.  I'm not stupid, I know all about safe sex and
all that shit and molesters and murderers and the police and everything
else.  I'm not stupid!" he said again.

For lack of any other ethical stance or position, all I could do was hold
my hand up in resignation and defeat, the formal sign of "I'm not gonna say
anything more about this, and don't you, either."  I was so glad that I
didn't have to sort this one out with him from a parental.  I should have,
but I knew that he really was smart, wily, and pretty damn street savvy
from the conversations we had had over the last 2 days. I also knew that
Skunk was the sort of kid who was going to do whatever he wanted,
regardless of consequences or repercussions.  It was part of who he was, a
sort of primitive adventurer instinct that lots of punks seem to be more in
touch with than the rest of us poor sods.  I also knew that his fundamental
personality was bound to get him in trouble repeatedly during his teen
years, and that it was good that he would be seeing my therapist friend
soon.

Things got silent for a few moments, and then he came over to me where I
had gone back to preparing dinner.

"Dude, I'm cool.  It's cool.  Don't stress.  I don't do it all the time or
anything."  He put his hand on my shoulder.

I turned to him.

"Look, what do you want me to do?  I mean, who do you want me to be in your
life?  A parent?  A friend?  Give me some direction here."

>From his face, I could tell that he had never had a conversation with an
adult before who treated him as an equal.  I truly wanted him to be honest
with me and he knew it.  His brow furrowed a bit and he said terribly
seriously, "Dude, you are a cool guy.  I like you a lot, you're fun and you
get kinky when you're horny, just like me!  And you aren't scared of me, I
mean because I'm a kid still.  You didn't make me do anything or do
anything to me, and that rocks.  I mean you didn't do anything that I
didn't do to you or wanted you to do.  So, to me you're like a cool adult
punk buddy - even though you don't look like one -- that I can fuck around
with and who has his own cool-ass place and who makes good food for me!
Just don't start acting like my mom or dad."  He had started chuckling and
trying to lighten up the atmosphere.  Very endearing.

As I got dinner underway, Skunk went back into the living room after he had
finished setting the table.  I got him to turn the music down some and he
continued jumping around the room by himself for a few minutes.  When he
came back into the kitchen he was naked.

"Dude, it feels so rad to get naked," he drawled, giggling and looking for
all the world like a mangy, underfed puppy, awkward arms and legs too big
for its body.  His cock was half hard and beginning to jut out to the side.
He came up behind me and unbuttoned my shirt from behind.  I let him do it,
raising my arms a little while I worked at the stove.  When he had my shirt
off, he started tugging my t-shirt out of my jeans.  I stopped what I was
doing and pulled my t-shirt off and threw it at him, laughing.  It was warm
in the kitchen and it felt good to be bare-chested.  Skunk took my t-shirt
with him to the kitchen table and sat down.  He brought it up to his face
and buried his nose in the sleeves, taking in a deep breath of my sweat.
His free hand disappeared under his balls and I could see that he was
bouncing them in his hand and rubbing his butthole.

I had to laugh.  "Hey, Skunk, don't go too fast or there won't be anything
to do after dinner!"

"Yeah, true..."

He tossed the shirt into the living room and stopped playing with himself.
His dick still twitched wildly every few moments, aching for some action.

"I gotta take a shit," he said, and got up to go to the bathroom.

As he walked through the living room I called out to him, warning him that
he'd better not jack off in the bathroom or I'd kick his ass.  He just
laughed and I heard the bathroom door close.  He was in there for a while,
and when he came back he flopped himself into a chair and let out a long
satisfied sigh.

"You didn't, did you?" I asked.

"Nah."  But he was smiling at me like he knew something I didn't.

Dinner was ready by now and even though he had told me he wasn't hungry he
ate like he hadn't seen food in days.  He was totally relaxed and having
fun, eating and drinking more of my beer and talking about friends of his
and how punk they all were.  I asked him if he fucked around with guys
regularly.  He seemed puzzled by my question, as though he had never
thought about it much.

"I dunno.  Whenever I feel like it, I guess," he said.

Skunk knew the after-dinner routine by now, so he helped me clear the table
and get the kitchen tidied up.  We had just finished washing and drying the
dishes.


"Hey, let's take a shower together!" he nearly shouted, suddenly excited
and happy with his new idea.

"A SHOWER?!" I yelped back at him.  "Dude, it's hotter the way you smell, I
don't want you to smell soapy!"

"Nah, not a cleaning shower, just hot water to get us all wet!"

I followed him into the bathroom.  It was nice watching him turn the shower
on and pull the shower curtain back, checking the water temperature before
climbing into the tub, taking charge of the situation.  I climbed in right
behind him and we stood under the hot water touching each other's chest.
His hand went down to my hard dick, fondling my nuts.  This kid was raring
to go and I sensed that he was feeling dominant tonight.  All of a sudden
he lay down in the tub as the shower cascaded over his body.  I had my back
to the nozzle, watching him.

"Turn the water off," he said after a few moments.

I wondered what he was up to, but I turned the water off. As I turned my
head back to look at him I thought he was starting to cum because a spurt
blasted out of his dick.  I was just about to yell at him, when I realized
what he was doing.  His stomach muscles contracted and then relaxed and all
of a sudden he started pissing.  The stream of piss arced up his belly and
then to his chest as his stream picked up strength and intensity.  He was
grinning at me crazily, laughing that screechy guffaw of his, totally horny
and into all this nastiness.

"Hunh?  Hunh?" he said several times, as if asking me what I thought of
this spectacle?

The piss stream stopped and I thought he was through.

"Damn, you're fucking nasty, you perverted son-of-a- --," I was saying when
suddenly he was pissing again, this time with a power and strength that
shot his piss up over his head against the shower wall at first, then fell
back to splash his hair and face in a continuous shower.  He opened his
mouth and aimed his cock straight at it, letting his piss fill his mouth
and pour back out onto his chest, swallowing some every once in a while.
Almost involuntarily, with an animal-like instinct, I began to piss too,
directly on him.  This was a new experience for me and at that moment I
loved it.  The strong yellow stream of piss gushing from my cock hit him in
the face and he recoiled for a second but then laughed and let out a loud
whoop and watched my piss fly at him. I kept trying to aim it right between
his eyes and he kept wiping the stinging hot piss away from them.  It was
like a game to me.  Skunk was having the time of his life and he reminded
me of a baby playing with its bath water.  I would go from his face to his
hair to his crotch and back again.  He was loving it!  When I was through
shaking the final drops of piss from my dick I turned to switch the shower
back on so we could rinse off.

"No!  Leave it off," he said, giggling like a nasty schoolboy.  "I smell
hot with our piss all over me."  He stood up and rubbed his soaking wet
body against mine, trying to transfer some of the piss smell to my body.
This boy was so fucking nasty and I knew that the Ecstasy was helping him
along.

"Dude, you're a fucking nasty little punk, ya know that?  Have you always
been like this or is it just the X?" I asked.

"Always love gettin' nasty, dude, always."  He was smiling like an angel.

We climbed out of the tub, Skunk giggling and slipping around, and I
wrapped him in the oversized bath towel and dried him off.  After I had
toweled him dry I couldn't smell piss on him hardly at all.

He sat on the closed lid of my toilet and watched me take my turn with the
towel.  His dick was hard and he had a difficult time not stroking it.  I
wanted to feel that punk cock slide down my throat so bad, but I didn't
want to spook him.  I was determined to let him lead this night's
adventures, mostly as an experiment to see just how raunchy this kid's
imagination could get.  I had my limits and I wasn't at all reluctant to
stop him if things were going too far for my taste, but so far I was as
into it as he was.

When I was through drying off and moved to leave the bathroom, he got up
from the toilet and started to follow me out.  But he stopped and said, "Oh
yeah!  I almost forgot.  Look."

He lifted the toilet lid as though he was removing the lid from some
fabulous dish and I looked to see what he wanted so badly to show me.  He
hadn't flushed the fucking toilet after he'd taken a shit a little while
earlier!  Coils of sausage-like turds filled the bowl and I started
laughing.

"You fucking nasty prick," I laughed, "why would you think I'd want to see
this!?"

He was stifling his laughter but started howling at my reaction.

"Dude, this is probably the biggest dump I ever took!  It's a fuckin' world
record!  Look at the size of those fuckin' turds!"  He was peering into the
toilet and seemed really impressed with himself and how thoroughly he had
emptied his bowels.  Ah, the punk lifestyle!

I punched him in the shoulder and he splatted against the wall, still
guffawing and giggling.  I flushed the toilet and he watched his crap spin
down the drain.

"You better not fucking clog up my toilet, asshole!" I said, then dragged
him by the arm out of the bathroom.

He started making attempts to slam dance with me as soon as we got back
into the living room, but I pushed him off and told him to pull the sofa
bed out so we could watch porn more comfortably.  I asked him what kind he
wanted to watch and he told me to choose.  He said the last two we'd
watched were awesome so anything more like that would be cool.

I had a pretty extreme one with a lot of punk kids fucking and being rough
and nasty in what is obviously one of their parent's bedrooms during a
raging party somewhere else in the house, but the camera work was pretty
bad.  The punks kept taking turns with the camera and they were all
completely wasted.  It was only marginally bisexual, the bulk of it gay.  I
popped it in and figured I'd see what would happen.

We smoked a lot of weed and I was drinking what was left of the Crown
Royal.  Skunk had his ever-present beer bottle next to him on the coffee
table.  We watched most of the video and Skunk loved it.  He was getting
hornier and hornier the more outrageous the video got.  His need to get off
was making me super horny, too.

"Go lie down against the wall and suck your dick again, that was awesome,"
I told him.

He got up and stumbled over to the wall, basically fell down on his ass and
slid up against the wall before positioning himself for some self-sucking.
When he had his skinny, pale-haired legs over his head and started the
gradual relaxing he needed in order to take himself further down his
throat, I got up and walked over to him.  I sat down beside him so I could
get a better view of this hottest-of-all-spectacles.  So far he was only
able to get the shiny purple head of his cock to this mouth, but he was
skilled at getting his lips locked on to it tight.  I started stroking his
balls and brushing my hand against his butthole, and it was getting him
more turned on.  I knew he loved having his nuts squeezed while he sucked
himself, so I wrapped my fist around them and gradually put the pressure on
them 'til he winced, then I squeezed a little harder.  He gasped and told
me to back off.  I wanted to squeeze even harder, but I did back off.  He
was now able to get about half his cock in his mouth, and I knew he could
take more.

It was one of the hottest things I had ever seen, this hot punk kid sucking
his own dick with me playing with his body while he did it.  He was really
slobbering all over his cock now and grunting and farting occasionally from
the position, like a fucking pig.  I could barely stop myself from kicking
his ass and then fucking him.  He threw his arms over his head and I got up
on my knees so I could rub my hard cock up and down in his rank pit.  He
groaned like a madman when I did that and I could see he was liking it a
lot.

His asshole was gaping at me, almost at my eye level.  That little pink
hole looked so wet and delectable and I decided to finger fuck him.  I
stroked his perineum for a bit and kept coming back to his asshole.  I
would tickle it and brush my fingers against it, finally pushing and
probing a bit.  He was moaning and would spit out his cock so he could
groan loud in ecstasy.

"Ah, fuck!" he kept saying, half-grunting, half-whispering it over and
over.

"Suck your cock," I ordered.

He sucked it back into his mouth, clasping the back of his upper thighs so
he could get better leverage and control.

I stuck my index finger into my mouth, getting it slicked up with spit,
then gently pushed it into his anus.  He made a little gasping hum in the
back of his throat and furrowed his brow when I shoved it in.  I was in a
perfect position to watch his face and his asshole all at the same time.  I
had the best seat in the house and I was thoroughly enjoying the show.
Once my finger was in all the way to the knuckle I started plunging it in
and out of his little greasy-looking hole.  The tiny pink lips of his anus
kept pursing as though they were silently saying "oooo" every time I'd pull
my finger back before pushing in again.  I was jacking my cock seriously
now, just barely able to keep myself under control and not shoot my nut all
over.  It looked like he was nodding while I fucked him with my finger and
he devoured his dick.  Spit was dripping out of the corners of his mouth
and I thought it was funny how his asshole was mirroring his lips.  Both
were hungrily sucking away, leaking juice from the pleasure he was getting.
I gradually worked another finger inside him, letting his get accustomed to
being opened wider, then added a third finger.  He was whimpering and
moaning deep in his throat and my dick was throbbing from all the built- up
tension and pressure.  I knew that when I shot it was gonna fly far.

"You like the taste of your own cock, don't you?  You like having your
asshole full of my fingers?" I whispered to him.  He nodded in enjoyment,
sighing and grunting.

"You're a fuckin' nasty little prick," I said out loud.  His eyes gazed at
mine, glazed and glassy and he raised his eyebrows.  I couldn't tell what
he was trying to convey.

"You fucking worthless piece of shit," I growled into his ear.  He
whimpered some more, louder this time, but it wasn't in pain or anger.  He
was getting more and more turned on the rougher and meaner I talked to him.
Amazing.

"Dirty cocksucking pig, that's what you are, you fucking useless eater!"
He spat his dick out and lowered his legs as much as I'd let him.  I knew
he needed a break from having his body bent double, so I let him lower his
hips to the floor, but I kept my fingers shoved up his hot ass.

"Fuck, dude, you're getting me close," he rasped out as he sucked in air
and tried to get his breathing regulated.  "Say more shit like that to me,"
he said as he prepared to hoist his body up over his head again.  He threw
his legs up and I helped him position himself so he was comfortable.

He slurped his tongue all around his leaking dick head.  I wanted to taste
what he was tasting, too.  With my fingers still lodged firmly up his ass,
I bent down do that I could shove my face between his folded body.  My face
was pressed close to his and I snaked my tongue out so it just flicked the
shaft of his cock as it glided in and out of his mouth.  He released his
prick from his mouth so I could get a good tongue swipe of the entire
thing.  His hot breath huffed in my face.

"Yeah, suck it, fucker," he hissed at me.  With his hand he pushed his cock
sideways so I could swallow it.  I wrapped my lips around it and he fucked
my mouth for a few seconds before he started to loose his leverage and
position.  I let go of his dick and he put it back in his own mouth, giving
me a sideways glance, smiling and nodding.  His eyes were almost rolling
back into his head.  I wanted to feel what he was feeling because it looked
so powerful.

He was drenched in sweat by now.  Both of us were, but mine was from
excitement while his was from exertion and drugs.  Trickles of sweat ran
down his swampy pits and I leaned over and licked his pit closest to me.
He moaned loud.

"You stink like a fucking locker room, you filthy little punk.  Look at
you!  Sucking your own cock like a goddamn animal, you nasty little
bastard!"  I was getting wild.

He roared from somewhere deep in his chest and started to bring his legs
down again.

I pulled my fingers out of his ass and wiped them on his ass cheeks as he
brought his legs back to the floor.

Without saying a word he rolled over towards me onto his side and clamped a
warm, damp hand onto my fuzzy ass, pulling me towards him.  Before I knew
what was happening he had swallowed as much of my hard cock as he could
take, gagging a little from his need to suck it.  I grabbed a handful of
his messy blond hair in my hand and yanked his head backwards.  He yelped a
little as I pulled him off my dick.  I looked into his pale exotic eyes and
he just stared at me, disoriented by his lust and the booze and drugs.  I
bent down to his head held firmly in my grasp and nuzzled under his
jawline.  He was breathing heavily and his breath felt hot and cool at the
same time.  I licked up his face until I came to his ear.  He had opened
his mouth and was moaning softly in a high-pitched whine.  I probed his ear
with the tip of my tongue and bit on his earlobe.  Skunk was writhing
around under my grasp and when I was through tasting his face I got back
into position so I could force his head back down to my dripping cock.

"Now lick that precum off, freak," I told him.  I knew he'd do whatever I
told him to do.  "Smell my balls, you skanky fuck, yeah, sniff my nuts!"

It was easy to get off this way because I had complete control over his
movements.  All I had to do was guide his head wherever I wanted to feel it
next, pushing or tugging him by his hair.  I wanted to feel his smooth face
and dirty hair rub against my sweaty asshole, so that's where I led him
next.  I could tell he didn't really want to lick my asshole but I barked
at him to do it.  So he did.  At first it was very tentative but soon he
was lapping at it and trying to get as much of his stiff tongue up my ass
as he could.  It felt amazing.

When I moved his head back up to my cock I yanked it back first and hocked
a wad of spit right in his face.

"Fuck you," he gasped, his spit and my ass juice smeared all over his chin
and cheek, my saliva running down the side of his nose and over his lips.

"You look so fucking hot," I laughed at him, then forced his face back down
onto my cock.  I was definitely using his head as a fuck toy now, careless
about how hard I rammed my dick down his throat or how hard I yanked his
hair.  He was squealing a little when I'd hurt him, but honestly it only
made me hornier.  I was pinching his nipples hard and he made more noise.
I dug my nails into them and he reared back away from my fingers.  I let go
of his hair and smacked him hard in the face.  He fell back and then sat up
fast.

"Ohhhh, ho!" he laughed, eyes blazing like stars.  All of a sudden he swung
himself around and kicked hard at me with his smelly bare foot.  It caught
me on the side of my head and sent me reeling.  I crashed back into the
wall and it was almost like someone had thrown a glass of cold water in my
face.

I was surprised at how brutal I had been with him.  But he liked it.  And
he had kicked me in the face because I'd hit him.  I liked this kid a lot.

"OK, bro, you wanna play rough, let's play rough!"  He was challenging me.

He lunged at me and we rolled around on the floor, wrestling and getting
each other in various holds.  I knew I could easily overpower him, but I
wanted to let him take control now.  Finally, I got us into a position
where he was straddling my chest and I gave in.  I told him I was too
fucked up to keep wrestling.  He said it didn't matter and that he had
still won.  He leaned forwards and shoved his half-hard cock in my face.

"Get me hard, motherfucker!" he barked.  It was cool to hear him talk loud
and hard.  It was like taking orders from a nasty, scrawny gutter punk.  I
had no problem at all getting him ramrod hard fast.  I had been wanting
this to happen so bad and now he had initiated it.  I gave him the best
damn blow job I've ever given, I think.

When he was starting to fuck my mouth, he said, "Lick up under my balls
now," all snarly and rough.  So hot.

I moved down to his crotch so that he was almost sitting on my face, but
not quite.  I had a great vantage point on his balls, which I suckled and
tugged with my tongue and lips, savoring the sting of the piss and his
sweat all mingled together.  I also had easy access to his asshole, so
after I licked his nuts I moved up to probe his hole with the tip of my
tongue.  A shiver ran up his back and he started to gasp a bit.  I reached
up and scooted him forward by his hips a few inches so I could get right in
deep now.  I did everything I knew how to do to a hot, tender asshole and
he was squealing and squirming and gasping by the time he flung himself off
me.

He crawled back to his place near the wall where he had sucked himself
earlier and got back into that position again.  I crawled over to him, and
got shoulder-to-shoulder.

"When you shoot, shoot it all over your face and hair, if you can.  That's
so fucking hot to see," I growled quietly at him

"No problem, man.  Trash talk to me again, it gets me off," he said.

He threw his legs over his head and started the process of lowering himself
so he could wrap his sweet little bow of a mouth around the fat purple head
of his own hard, young cock.  What could be more wonderful?  It felt almost
holy.

As he started to suck himself I had to get another taste of his sweet young
asshole.  I got in front of him and started lapping hard all around and
over it, then shoving my tongue in and out, fucking him with my mouth.  He
was silky-soft and hot inside.  I could hear him whimpering and moaning as
he kept chowing down on his dick.

Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I stood up.

I lowered myself into position and started touching his exposed asshole
with the tip of my hard cock.  I squatted a bit lower and let my dick poke
his asshole every time his hips moved.  He didn't make a sound except for
slurping and breathing through his nose loudly.  I hocked a huge wad of
spit onto my fingers and slowly worked them into his ass.  I hocked another
wad of spit meanwhile into my other hand and slicked my dick up as best I
could without lube.  I sure as hell wasn't going to take the time to go get
some.  I heard his muffled roar and felt him convulse and thrash when I
started pushing into him.

"Relax your fucking asshole," I hissed at him.

"Oh, fuck, it hurts..."

I leaned over him and covered his mouth with my hand and then forced my way
into him.  He screamed and thrashed under my hand and squeezed his eyes
shut.  I wondered if he had ever been fucked by a real cock.  Maybe not.
Anyway, truthfully, at that moment I didn't care, all I knew was that I was
going to fuck this kid.  And I knew he would end up loving it.

When I was all the way in him I could see and feel him start to relax into
it and I took my hand off his face.

"Ohhhhhhh, fuck that hurt so bad, oh god, you fucking hurt, oh Christ,
ohhhhh....."

"Now get your fucking scrawny legs back up and suck your dick, pig!" I
yelled at him.

He was dazed still but he gave a brief grin and got ready again.  I stayed
glued to him as he readjusted his hips a bit and lowered his hard dick back
into his mouth.  I was half-squatting, half-standing, just sort of bouncing
up and down on his upturned ass.  My cock was plunging in and out, so deep
inside this hot punk's warm and tender guts, I knew I wasn't gonna last
long.

"This is how a man fucks, you worthless puke.  Maybe some day you'll be
able to fuck like this, not like some snot-nosed little motherfucker who
stinks like a fucking animal."

I kept saying nasty stuff to him and I could hear him start to moan louder
and louder as I fucked him deeper and harder.

Finally he spat his cock out and said, "I'm gonna come, oh my god, oh
fuck..."

I leaned forward to watch him shoot, pounding his ass good and fast now.
He opened his mouth while he jacked off for just a few strokes and then he
erupted.  I think fucking him and ramming his prostate helped him shoot the
biggest load I'd seen him produce yet.  He sprayed it out this time,
blasting not only his entire face and head, but the wall and floor all
around him.  A big white wad of nut glued one of his eyes shut and I swiped
it off with my finer and sucked it off.  Warm and creamy, sweet and gluey.
I was about to shoot so I pulled out of him and took a step forward so I
could blast all over his face and chest.

When I shot, the first rope blasted over his head and ran down the wall,
but the next two landed perfectly.  One lashed him across the face and the
other landed on his lower lip and chin.  A few final spurts ran down his
heaving, sweaty chest.

I noticed as I came back to Earth how steamy and wet it felt in the room.
The stink of our combined sweat was so strong you could almost see the
vapors hanging in the smoky air.

He lowered his legs and arched his back to stretch, sighing and groaning.
I was still milking out the last drops of my nut, but I sat down beside him
on the floor.  I leaned over and licked the cum from his lips and chin.  He
raised his head after I pulled back and looked at me, grinning like he was
drunk.  So wasted and adorable.

We stayed slumped against the wall for a little while and then got up.  It
was pretty late by now and I was drained and wanted to sleep.  I guess
Skunk did, too.  We didn't say anything at all about the rough scene we had
just gotten off to.  Instead, we eased back into casual, friendly bickering
and small talk.

In retrospect, I realized one of the things I liked best about Skunk was
that he could have sex -- wild, crazy, kinky sex -- and then just forget
about it and go back to normal afterwards.  Sex was just something to do
that felt good for both of us, it wasn't some drama that needed to be
discussed and dissected endlessly afterwards.  No talk about our feelings,
no questions about intent or what it all meant.  Fucking was just fucking,
and getting your nut was the goal.  After he'd gotten off, what else needed
to be said about it?  My kind of guy.  Very cool.

We finally went to bed and decided to sleep in because the next day was
Saturday.  We had agreed that I would drop Skunk off at his parents' house
in the afternoon, so there was no need to wake up early.  We both slept
well and the next day was pretty interesting.  I finally got to meet his
parents and in the next and last installment I'll write more about what
happened.  I'll also fill you in on what happened to Skunk after those
incredible 3 days he spent at my place.