Date: Wed, 17 May 2000 11:47:27 -0700 (PDT) From: samuel taylor Subject: MotorCycle Hustling 5 Disclaimer: Adults Only! Minor's Barred! Contains same-sex images. MOtorCycling Hustling 4 by jared My name is Ben by the way, incase your wondering. I got by motorcycle from this fat balding guy who ran a who ran a junk yard of old cars and bikes, on the other side of the city. I gave him his first bj and he was so thrilled he asked me what he could do, as a favor. I told him, how about teaching me how to fix bikes, and so he found one and help me rebuild it. In a way he was very father figurish to me, I slowly payed him 1,000$ for the bike, included was all the sex he could enjoy from me. It was a fair trade. Well I stopped at an all night Denny's and sat around drinking coffe with my other hustler friends swapping, jokes and and techniques. We are a close group and we look after each other. We hustler's are the gentleman's children, we take care of them, they take of us. Occasionally we will fool around with each other, since my god some of the other hustlers are drop dead gorgeous. I am of average looks. Sabastian my friend is a walking demi-god-model, among us and the oldest at the game. I have slept with him, he likes my skater boy's body--since it is plain and boyish. I see my black dancer client, standing around, waiting to approach a hustler, for a bj. I remember my time with him, a summer ago, he was so desperate and poor, I felt bad for him, I offered to blow him for 10$. In exchange, he found me a helmet for my bike. He is a very soft spoken drag--queen dancer, lives alone with his cat, and practices new moves he's created for his dance piece he's been trying to get off the ground. He asked me to do a small part. I am not much of a dancer, but he enjoys my moves during our little fling. I contorted my body in a sexual sculptor pose, while he danced around me like a frantic artist in heat, making a revelation about his work, I was his living dancing work, he was my mentor, We were both tripping on acid naked, and he picked me up and held me like a high trophy, Then he "crashed" me into his groin, I nearly, choked sucking his 9 inch. We moaned and sang our creative urges in the most rich vocal harmonies, that two fucking males could produce, I was the "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" he was the "Sooooooooooooo" togather it sounded as if a whale and primate where doing a duet, in the dawn of time, togather celebrating the birth of man, who would later drown both species out with his animal domination roar.......... Frank was a beautiful black man, His curly Afro, was so erotic, as I lay my exhausted head upon his. We joked about how sex helps inspire dance, and that mankind would give up his wars if all men stripped naked and danced togather, forget about being gay. Anyway I watched him take home a long haired Josh, a heroine junk hustler, who will probably, blow his money on a new fix. Yes drugs and hustlers go hand in hand. Josh, is an arrogant hustler, he uses his good looks to just fuel his fix, I use my looks to pay for my motorcycle. I am off to see my plumber client, who wishes to remain anoynomous. His rough hands cup my small dick, as I lay on the bed naked, in his dingy apartment, I am so aroused, by his breathing and whispers of "faggot" under his breath and slaps my face. I just endure about, a half hour of this until I cumm, in his hands, he licks it off. He enjoys watching guys cum in his hands, almost like watching a waterfall come out of a faucet, With me it is more like a small trickle and then gush. He makes me get dressed and then he asks for a lift, to the corner store, I brought him to the corner store and he paid me, 50$. I don't feel bad ripping him off slightly, because he just likes my dick, than he likes my spirit. I am part of his erotic desire to fondle young guys. I don't mind, and I do a very good job of playing "his little boy." Well I am heading of to my bed, a run down garage, near my junk yard friend's lot, to call it a night. I often think sometimes how lonely it is being a hustler, something not often spoken of. It is funny how lonely too, my clients are. I guess being gay means lots of loneliness....... I am exhausted, but at least I did well tonight. I put my earnings in a cigar box, and I strip down to my white briefs and socks, and open the book of my author client Vincent and begin to read the first page of chapter one, " The full Moon spread his beam shafts into the room of of an empty made bed....." I started to drift to sleep.