Date: Sat, 11 Feb 2012 21:33:35 -0500 From: Casey Martell Subject: The Mall Rat THE MALL RAT by Casey Martell hollyweird@email.com This story involves a 28-year-old man seducing a 15-year-old boy at a shopping mall in a very unusual way. If you enjoy this one, or can relate to it, write me and we'll talk. No flames, please, if you don't like it, stop reading. --- The mall was old, built in the late 1960s, about 30 miles east of downtown Los Angeles. A major renovation in the '80s had added a second story, but since then the center had lost two of its anchor stores and had fallen into disrepair. One of the shops still making a living on the second floor was a trendy store offering bored suburban teens two of the things they craved most: music and clothes, and seemed to attract a lot of goth and emo kids in their mid to late teens. Lately it was also attracting 28-year-old Casey Martell, who lived just east of the declining shopping center and had a taste for teenage boys. The tall supermarket clerk had found the hip upstairs clothing shop, and the mall's noisy food court, well worth his time on Saturday mornings for the past several months. The last two Saturdays, a boy about fourteen or fifteen had wandered into the teen clothing shop and spent a few minutes looking at hoodies, beanies and black t-shirts. Casey had watched the short, dark-haired boy both times and had the urge to approach him and start a conversation, but both times the store was crowded and the timing just didn't seem right. As Casey walked into the trendy store, he was hoping the same boy would show up again, and about ten minutes later, he did. It was a holiday weekend, so the mall was nearly empty of shoppers and even the teen store had only a few. Casey was hoping the right moment would come. About 5'6" tall and of average build, the teen had dark brown hair that had been dyed black, with bangs that covered the boy's left eye and most of that side of his face. He wore the usual tight black pants and black t-shirt, with black skater sneakers and black socks. He had large grey eyes with long lashes, accented with just the right amount of blue eye shadow. He was starting to get a bit of facial hair, mostly on his upper lip. His cheeks and chin sported a pimple or two but his complexion was actually unusually clear for his age. A necklace of puka shells circled his neck, and a collection of plastic wristbands adorned both wrists. Pretty standard accessories for a California male in his mid teens. The boy walked directly to his usual rack of hoodies and beanies, putting him out of the line of sight of the store's two twentysomething clerks and away from the two or three other kids who seemed more interested in CDs and stickers. Casey stood beside the boy at the rack. Both of the handsome teen's forearms were crosshatched with a scattering of razor-thin cuts, some a month or two old and nearly healed into scars, some quite recent, and, as Casey had noticed on the previous Saturdays, a few were very fresh, probably from the previous night or early Saturday morning. The cuts, and the boy's unmistakable "hurt me, I'm vulnerable" look on his face and in his large, pretty eyes, had given Casey an idea. The tall, thin supermarket clerk had been reading up on the phenomenon that teens called "cutting", and had learned it was a form of self-abuse, often engaged in because it strangely enough brought some relief from the adolescent pain of their home or school life. Casey had come to the mall with a little theory that was just crazy enough to work. As the boy picked up a dark grey beanie from the rack and looked at the price tag, Casey reached over and traced the newest cuts on the teen's nearly hairless arms with his fingertip, and in a soft, gentle voice said "That's really cool." The hand holding the beanie paused in mid-air, and the teen closed his eyes for about five seconds, reopened them, and put the beanie back on the rack, still looking straight ahead. "Did that make you feel a little better?" Casey continued to speak in a gentle near-whisper, and picked up a black baseball cap so it would look like he was shopping. The teen turned toward Casey, reached up with one hand and brushed his bangs away from his face. This was the critical moment: the kid would either freak out right on the spot, or he would let Casey in. The boy's large grey eyes stared back for about ten seconds, and the silence between them was so total Casey could hear the boy breathe. "A little," the short teen finally whispered, his eyes still locked onto Casey's. "Do you care?" "I'd like to," Casey whispered back. He dropped his gaze to the front of the teen's black t-shirt, then back to his eyes. "Are there more?" The boy nodded silently. "A lot, actually." "I'd like to see," Casey whispered, "and talk about it. My car's up in the parking garage, nobody's gonna see." The older man knew the kid would need time to think, and he patiently waited. "Are you gay?" the boy asked gently, without a hint of sarcasm. "Yeah," Casey answered, matching the boy's soft tone, now just above a whisper. The boy looked down at his sneakers and nodded his head slowly before he answered. "Okay." They exited the store together and found Casey's maroon Toyota in a remote corner of the parking garage. After they climbed into the back bench seat, with the high backs of the front bucket seats hiding them somewhat from view, the handsome teen pulled off his black t-shirt and dropped it at his feet, settling back against the seat so Casey could see his cuts. His large grey eyes looked expectant, and his face had the vulnerable look the older man had seen on the two previous Saturdays. "What's your name?" Casey asked, putting his arm around the teen's warm shoulders and giving him a gentle embrace. "Trevor." "How old are you?" Casey was still speaking in the soft, gentle tone he had used in the store. "Fifteen." Trevor was starting to get some definition in his chest and arms. A bit of sparse, dark hair had sprouted between his pecs, and his nipples were large and medium brown. Casey began touching the freshest cuts on the boy's chest and arms as the teen watched. "I'm glad it helps," Casey told him. "This helps too," Trevor whispered, pulling a small plastic bag of marijuana out of a pants pocket. "Good, I'm glad," Casey answered, and started rubbing the teenager's pecs with his hand. Trevor closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them. Casey hugged Trevor a little tighter and started rubbing the boy's chest and stomach. The handsome teen seemed to relax and didn't appear to mind. "Have you been having sex with someone in your family?" Another potentially critical moment, the kid was either goint to freak out and run away, or answer it. He answered it in a whisper so quiet Casey could barely hear. "My dad." "How old were you the first time?" "Twelve." "When was the last time?" "Last night. It's pretty much every night." "So, every night since you were twelve?" "Yeah." "Tell me what he does." Trevor looked out the car window at the nearly empty parking garage for a long moment before answering. "First he makes out with me," the boy finally replied. His whisper was almost inaudible. Casey leaned over and kissed Trevor hard on the lips several times, then put his tongue into the boy's mouth when he felt Trevor's lips part. Casey and the handsome teen tongue-kissed deeply for nearly ten minutes, while Casey continued to rub the boy's bare chest and stomach. When they stopped, the teen's large grey eyes were almost begging for more, but his lips were clearly asking for something more than Casey's tongue. The supermarket clerk ubbuttoned and pulled down the zipper of his khaki slacks, and slid his pants and boxers down to his knees. Without a word, Trevor leaned over, took Casey's already rigid penis in his hand, and slurped the head of it into his warm, wet young mouth. The teenager proceeded to give the older man the most mind-bending oral sex he had ever had in his life, using his tongue and just the right amount of suction from his cheeks to bring the man to climax. Trevor sucked him to completion and swallowed Casey's sperm. Clearly his dad had taught him well. He sat up straight and looked silently back at Casey. "I'd like to start seeing you on Saturdays," Casey said gently. "Okay," Trevor answered, so quickly that Casey wondered if the boy had been coming to the mall to meet men. "Thank you," Casey said gently, and pulled the teen into a tight, warm embrace. "Meet me in the mall next Saturday?" "Yeah," Trevor answered, "I will. Maybe we can talk more, too." "We will, I promise."