Date: Fri, 1 Mar 2019 17:43:36 -0800
From: Emri S. <tarzanacide@gmail.com>
Subject: Ahmed's Cub Ch.1

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Ahmed's Cub

Ch.1 - The Hunter

By Emri

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They cum so hard when I growl at them in Arabic. They don't even know what
I'm saying and sometimes I'm just reviewing my chemistry notes for an exam
coming up, but they don't know any different. I once explained the chemical
breakdown of a tootsie pop and this guy shot all over himself before I
could get to the center.

It's not that this one is bad looking. None of my clients are especially
ugly, but they're all pretty much the same; older, rich, married business
moguls from Beverly Hills looking for a hard-bodied Egyptian boy to slam
their hole and treat them like shit. They drain my cock and guzzle my seed
like filthy fuckers then I'm off before the wife and kids come back from
wherever they've been sent.

I usually clear $600 a session plus gifts, but this client is a special
arrangement. I visit him once a month and he pays for my membership at
Beverly Palms.

It's the premiere A-list gym in LA and rife with the kinds of clients who
will get me through college. Once you've worked out there, it's hard to go
back to Gold's or 19 or 24 or whatever shitty club is in your neighborhood.

It's the best place to meet clients too and they always understand the
score. There's no surprise of me expecting money. They know a chiseled god
like me working out at the most exclusive club in LA is either a
celebrity's kid or a boy who knows how to be discreet. These guys run
empires and they get off on having the tables turned. They get off on
worshiping a true alpha with dark eyes and a heavy accent.

I dumped a load in Austin Caldwell right as I caught a glimpse of his wife
rolling up on the security screen in the side room he used for play. I
buried my cock deep and pumped the last of it out just as the little chimes
alerted us that the garage was opening.

Austin popped his head up to look at the monitor, but I wasn't done. I
squeezed his neck and pushed his head back down against the weight bench.
He smirked at me knowing I demanded his full attention. He knew I'd never
blow his cover and fuck up what we had.

I leaned down over him and drove my cock in til my balls smacked against
his full, white ass. He'd been hitting it hard with the personal trainer
and his firm globes yielded begrudgingly to my thick, muscled thighs.

"What do you want, boy?" I growled at him and squeezed his neck. The pig
loved that.

"Your seed, sir. Only yours. Please!" He whined like a bitch. I pistoned
into him one last time and his velvety hole milked the last of what I had
to offer.

"Fuck, yeah," I groaned. I held him there for a second as his wife came in
on the floor below us. His kids must have been away for the night. They
were punk ass teens I'd seen enough pictures of to piece together how their
lives must have been. None of them respected Austin in the least. He was a
paycheck and a distant roommate, but they pulled it together for some sweet
family photos.

I waited til his wife called for him. I slid out of his hole and felt my
seed squish out. I wiped my cock on the jockstrap he'd been wearing. I
pulled up my boxers and shorts then pulled on my tank top. I could shower
at home.

"Upstairs, honey! Finished my workout! Just about to hop in the shower!"
Austin yelled. He had a little bathroom in the playroom gym. I waited for
her to come up the stairs. She wouldn't come in here. She had no interest.
He'd given her the kids and house she wanted. She'd go put away her
purchases and I'd slip out. I had a key. I had lots of keys. They trusted
me.

Austin tried for a kiss, but the fucker knew better. I pushed him hard in
the center of his chest and he looked slightly dejected but quickly
recovered.

"I almost forgot! I got you something!" He always tried to buy some
affection. This fucker was starved for it.

"No gifts, just gym," I whispered as I tied my shoes.

"Please! Take it! It's your style and I know you'll look hot in it! You're
already so hot! I could put you in a video I have coming up. Have you
changed your mind about doing that? You know you could do so much more!" He
tried to get a smile out of me.

He fished a small gray box out of the shorts he'd been wearing. He pushed
it at me and I took it with a nod. He was hoping I'd agree to be in one of
his films; hoping I'd owe him something. He was hoping he could pin me
down. Most of the guys hoped for that, but I'm nobody's bitch and I like
things as they are.

"Pay the gym, we are good," I said. I slipped the box into my pocket and
crept to the door. I waited to hear his wife close their bedroom door then
made a quick escape from the house.

I found my new sports car down the block. It's a lease. One of my clients
gets me a fresh one every six months from his dealership. It's a short
drive to the guest house I rent up on Mulholland. I could live for free in
one of the client's condos, but fuck that. None of them will ever set foot
in my home.

I rent from an older lady who lives in the big house. She has kids and
family but they never visit. I check in on her and always take out the
trash to help out. It's not the cheapest place but I can see the ocean from
my patio above her garage and it's mine.

I had a message on my computer from my mom when I got in. It was morning in
Cairo and she usually checks in with me while she makes coffee. I pull up
the video chat and call her back.

"Morning, ya ommy!" I smile for her and feel the grey box in my pocket. I
fish it out and set it on the table next to my laptop so she can't see it.
She goes on about something my father did to annoy her. She brews coffee
and adjusts her hair in the computer monitor.

"Yes! You have been married for forty years! Why do you still argue?" I ask
and laugh. I open the box and see a new silver chain. It's thick like
something a rapper would wear. It's authentic though, probably hundreds of
dollars. Austin is a pig for affection. He'll do anything to earn my
pleasure.

"And you? Have you met a nice girl there? Don't date American girls! I have
nice ones picked out for you when you finish your studies and come home!
You're nearly 24, my Ahmed. It is time for a family!" She admonishes me as
always.

"No, Ommy. I am saving myself for the one you will choose," I laugh. She
nods approvingly. I am her youngest and the last one she must marry off.
She will never know how I afford my life here. They think I am a brilliant
chemistry student with loads of grant money. What college grant pays for an
expensive sports car and apartment in the hills?

"You get to bed now. Tomorrow is your new semester and you need your
sleep!" She says and lets me go.

I have to be up in 8 hours, but I'm not tired. I make a health shake and
watch the morning news from Cairo until I start to yawn.

+++

Summer semesters are the worst. The college fills up with high schoolers
taking advanced placement courses and they muck everything up and act
stupid in the classes. I get to my English course (Yes I'm still stuck
taking remedial English) and of course there is a gob of them taking up
seats at the back. The professor comes in and immediately disperses them
and gives them a lecture about behaving in college.

I look at them with annoyance but then spot one of them off by himself. He
is the perfect picture of a California boy and even has a skateboard under
his desk.

He sits in the first row, but all the way against the wall as if guarded
for an attack. He looks down at his notebook cover as if the color yellow
has some deeper meaning. He's nervous, probably his first day on a campus.
I'm drawn to him and slide into the seat directly behind him.

He looks up momentarily and turns his face half to the side. He has perfect
milky skin and innocent blue eyes with soft pink lips. He looks fresh out
of the box and not a day over 16. His light brown hair is messy on top and
shaved close on the sides. It has flecks of red that catch the fluorescent
light and make it seem less harsh.

He has a tight blue tank top that shows off his toned frame and budding
muscles like he just picked up a dumbell once and then decided to stick
with swimming.

I'm not usually drawn to boys. Believe it or not I have been through my
fair share of girls and tasted the best this country has to offer. But
there's just something about that all-american ideal boy that draws me in.
My eyes meet his. He snaps his head back to the intimate study of the
yellow notebook cover. I smile as I see a rosy blush settle in over his
pale cheeks. He's scared, but interested.

The class is boring and I didn't catch his name when she called the roll,
but he caught mine. When the teacher stumbles through Ahmed El-Ami the boy
looks up and turns his head just enough to see me raise my hand. He turns
back to his notebook and scribbles something, maybe my name with a heart
around it. I feel a swell of pride in my chest at that. I made him look up.

That's the last time he looked at me though. He makes a point of staring
straight ahead, even when she asks us to turn and talk to a neighbor. I
poked him once on the shoulder to see if he'd neighbor with me, but he
pretended not to notice and instead looked down.

I catch his eyes focusing on my shoes. I spread out in these small desks
and my feet land on either side of him. I tap my feet whenever he looks
away and watch his little head snap back to them. Shy boy likes my feet.
It's a start.

I had on black vans, low tops with white socks pulled up to my bulging
calves. The clients love them and always are specific in requesting them
when they hire me to be worshiped. Some of them prefer dress shoes, black
with laces. They lick them clean and then slide them off to dig their pig
noses into my black dress socks.

Shy boy is an innocent though. He'd ogle the rest of me if he could, but
today he only has nerves enough to study my shoes.

The class was only an hour since we go every day in the summer. As soon as
she dismisses us, shy boy takes off. He stuffs his things in his backpack
as he moves through the crowd. He rockets out of there like his world is on
fire. He's taller than I'd expected and that tank top clings to an
impossibly narrow waist that only youth can bring. His ass though. He fills
out those shorts with something to be proud of, something most white boys
his size lack. I unconsciously lick my lips as he walks away.

I find him in the courtyard and hang back behind a palm to watch him for a
minute. He's not sitting with the gob of high schoolers. He's by himself,
perched on a ledge working his way through a bag of celery sticks and
fumbling with his phone. His skateboard is under his feet and he rolls back
and forth in a careless rhythm.

In the sunlight his hair looks blonder and he squints under the harsh
summer blaze. He is quite the pretty boy with symmetrical features and
oversized eyes with long, light lashes. I wonder what he's looking at on
his phone. I watch him for a minute then decide I should get to the gym
before I check in to see if I have a client tonight.

I'm just about to leave him when I notice a few of the high school boys
separate from the gob and move towards him. They look like assholes so I
stop and stand guard. They stand in front of him and he looks up slowly
from his phone.

I can't hear what they're saying, but shy boy's face turns red and I see
those little pink lips start to quiver. I feel a protective tightening in
my chest. Those lips should only quiver when preparing to please my cock. I
start to see red as my shy boy trembles like a rabbit circled by jackals.

I should have walked away, but I'm invested in this. I feel my chest
tighten harder but then tell myself to let it be. I stay out of the light
in this country. I never cause trouble. I try to turn my head and walk on,
but then I see shy boy get up. He shoves the celery sticks in his backpack
and looks like he's about to fight... or cry. His fists ball up but he looks
down as if not seeing them will make them disappear.

That was enough. Something inside me snaps and I can't walk away. I move in
and shy boy freezes. My eyes catch his. His eyes cry out for help. I give
him a nod of reassurance then plaster a smile across my lips. Nothing to
fear, boy. Your knight is here. I turn towards the ringleader of the group
bothering him and smile.

"You are in the class with me, no?" I ask with a light tone. I put my hand
on his chest and shove him back. "Come! I have question! You can help!" I
say it in a friendly tone but keep shoving him off to the side as his face
turns a pale white of fear. I separate him from the safety of his friends
and talk to him in a low, controlled voice. None of his friends move in to
help. They back away. Cowards.

"Hey, what the fuck? I don't know you, man!" He suddenly gets flustered.
The smug power he'd been building up dissipates and he shows what a scared
little fucker he actually is.

"You go to high school with him?" I ask and nod back towards shy boy.

"Dylan? Yeah. He's a loser. He knows he's not supposed to eat near us. He's
always lurking around," He sputters for an explanation. Shy boy has a name,
Dylan.

"This is no high school and Dylan is good friend to me. I have lots of
friends. I have big, scary friends who do not like high school boys who
come here to make the rules. We have rules here and Dylan will eat where he
like. You will not be bother to him. Not here, not anywhere. Do you
understand?" I keep my voice low, but I use the same tone that strikes fear
and lust in the powerful men I professionally humble. Just like they do,
this kid cracks.

"Yes... yeah... cool... got it," the kid fumbles around for words to appease me.

"Sir, I am sir!" I add because he needs to learn respect.

"Sir! Yes, sir. I got it, sir," he says.

"Good, very good. We have nice campus here. I hope you enjoy! Go back to
your friends and be peaceful," I tell him with a smile.

I pretend to straighten his collar, but it's just a reminder that I can
squeeze the life out of him if I have to repeat this conversation at any
time in the future. I give him a wink and he nearly pisses himself. He
scurries off back to the safety of the gob and says something to them. They
all look at me with fear and I give a happy nod. I turn to look, but shy
boy... Dylan is gone.

+++

I hit the gym hard that afternoon. I tried to focus and throw myself into
it, but that kid kept popping up in my thoughts; Dylan, not the fucker I
had to correct.

I'm in the middle of a set when my phone goes off. The clients know better
than to call so I hit ignore. It goes to voicemail. It's some new guy who
says he got my info from Evan Aldrich. Evan is a record executive in Encino
that just likes to blow me. I've never fucked him and I'm fine with that.
He gets off on worshiping my feet then having me blow my load all over his
suit.

"He told you my rate?" I text back to the number.

"Yes, sir. I'll have six in cash and I ordered from your Amazon wishlist.
Let me know if you need more," he writes back immediately. I like a client
who responds quickly. He's desperate.

I check my Amazon and see he not only got the shoes I'd put on there, but
several of the jockstraps the clients add to my Client Fantasy wishlist.

They put all sorts of goofy shit on there and I cancel out a lot of it. I
don't need a penis pump when Allah already blessed me with a fat 9 inch
pipe. I don't get into tit clamps and harnesses. I cancel that shit out,
but I try to allow them their fantasies within reason. I do like the meal
delivery service one of them added for me. That was a nice touch and I
fucked him extra long for that one. They look out for me.

"Time and address," I respond.

"7:30, 1416 Encino Canyon," he writes back. That's just a few miles down
the hill from my place so I agree.

"Please wear the jock you worked out in today! I'll buy it from you if you
don't mind. My name's Tim by the way," he writes.

"7:30," I respond.  I'd charge him an extra hundred for the jock. Whatever
gets me paid.

+++

The next day I spot Dylan sitting in the same seat. He has on a t-shirt
with some pop band's logo splayed across his chest. He looks up at me when
I come in but then quickly looks down. I slide in behind him again. My cute
little shy boy is improving. He could have found another seat, one with no
empties around it. He didn't.

He pretends to ignore me but keeps sneaking looks every few minutes. It's
unbearably cute and the first time the professor makes us do a turn and
talk with our neighbors, I make a move.

"Neighbor me," I say and tap his shoulder. He turns and gives me a
frightened look like I'm holding a gun or something.

"I'm... she's beside me," he says and points to a girl who's already talking
to the jock on the other side of her.

I grab the back of his desk and pull it to my left then drag it back until
he's sandwiched in between me and another guy who had his back to us. He
couldn't be much more than 100 pounds so it's an easy slide. Dylan looks
horrified but keeps his composure. His skateboard slides away from the wall
but I catch it and gently lean it on its side.

"Now I'm beside you! Neighbor me." I demand with a smirk that most people
can't refuse. He smiles back then coughs to hide it.

"We're not supposed to move the desks. She told us that the first day," he
whispers like police are going to bust in and lock us up. Dylan's a good
boy. He follows the rules.

"Does that kid still bother to you?" I ignore his pleas.

His cheeks blush fire. He shakes his head to tell me no.

"Good. Let me know if he does. Why do they bully you?" I prod. He squirms.

"It's ok. We grew up together. They're just... it's cool," he excuses them.
It breaks my heart. He's a sweet kid. Those ice blue eyes have me hooked.

I look unconvinced but he offers nothing more. I let him off the hook and
we work through the exercises together. I let him slide his desk back to
where it was and he starts turning towards me whenever she has us pair.

When she dismisses us, he starts to rocket off again, but I grab his arm.

"Walk with me. You have hunger to rush for your celery?" I smile.

"No... not today," he stumbles for words so I cut him off.

"Good. Do you go to the coffee place near the science building? I will show
you," I said. I stuff my backpack and stand up. He follows me out.

+++

"You're Egyptian, right?" he asks quietly after finally warming up to me at
the coffee shop. He'd argued with me when I'd bought him a protein
smoothie, but he sure was chugging it down. Poor kid acted like he didn't
get much to eat.

"Yes! I am! How do you know this? I look Pharoah?" I joked.

"My dad took me there on one of his last business trips. He worked for
British Petroleum and took me to Port Said!" he says. I questioned him
until he pulled out his phone and fished around for a picture.

"See? There! We were on the ferry halfway between Africa and Asia!" Dylan
holds up his phone and shows a recent picture of him in the arms of an
older, meatier version of him.

"Yes! I have cousins on the Asian side... He looks happy. Where does he work
now?" I ask since Dylan said it was one of his last business trips.

"Huh? Oh... Um... nowhere," Dylan says and his face falls. There is tragedy in
my shy boy. He carries trauma.

"Oh. I am sorry. He passed away... did he?" I ask. Dylan's face goes numb. He
looks down, takes the last sip of his protein smoothie, then stares at the
table top like it's his yellow notebook.

His phone interrupts and he takes it from his pocket. He forces a happy
tone as he tells the person he is heading home soon.

"I gotta go. That's my aunt. I'm usually home by now," he says with relief.
She was just the excuse he was looking for.

"I give you a ride? It is not safe to board without a helmet," I lecture
him as he grabs his backpack.

"Nah. I'm just across Balboa. I stay on the side streets! See you tomorrow.
Thanks for the shake!" He scrambles away from me before I can argue. I
watch him leave the shop and toss his skateboard in front of him then jump
on it and push off. I feel bad for invading his tragedy, reigniting his
trauma. I need to find out more.

+++

"All I know is he is Dylan Kenton... probably 16... and a student at
Valley. His father passes away recently," I tell Mike as I press in behind
him. He isn't a regular client, but this was urgent.

"Uh huh... Let's see... This him?" Mike asks. I look over his shoulder and see
my beautiful boy pop up on his screen. It's his school picture and says he
was a Senior this past year.

"That's him!" I say excitedly and accidentally shove my cock all the way
into Mike's gently used hole. Mike groans and I pull back and apologize.

Mike Anders is a top cybersecurity agent. He is former FBI and now works in
securing some of the biggest firms in Los Angeles. He's nearly 50 but keeps
himself in good shape. He agreed to track down the info I needed on Dylan
in exchange for a reduced rate (I still have to charge these guys
something. They get off on paying and need to know I will never owe them.
My services are always worth more.).

I'd met up with him at a condo they used near the Hollywood/Highland
center. I rarely reach out to my clients so he cleared his evening to see
me. He was all goofy when I got there so I had to start with a harsh
spanking because he forgot the rules and tried to grab me before I had
given him orders. Why do they always do that? He quickly settled down and
got to work as I pistoned his hole.

"Yes, his father died, mother too... six months ago," he says. He pulls up an
article from the Times showing a picture of the happy couple posing near
the Grand Canyon with their happy boy between them.

"I'll print it all for you, If I can just..." He wiggles his bottom and I
take the hint. I slide my cock out of his hole and some of my juice leaks
out onto the towel he has laid out.

"Thanks, Mike," I say with sincere gratitude. Normally I am a rough and
harsh alpha with my clients. I catch myself and turn away to look less
friendly.

I listen as a printer starts to whirr and I wipe myself down with a towel.
I catch Mike looking longingly at my cock between sending off documents to
the printer. He finishes up as I'm tying my shoes. He hands me a large blue
envelope and a fold of bills.

+++

I grab a take-away of roasted chicken and rice on my way home. I race
upstairs and flop down on the couch with my food in one hand and the
envelope in the other.

I peruse his school records. Dylan is a good student according to his
report cards, but he failed to graduate this year. He was taking the summer
English course and would need a math course to finish his high school
diploma. His grades dropped off a cliff after his parents' death.

He has only been reported to the principal once. The incident report says
he punched and kicked his locker until the door came off... I notice the date
is just after his parents passed. He has a driver's license, but chooses to
skateboard to class?

The article!

"An Encino couple killed in Monday's fiery crash on the Hollywood Freeway
has been identified as Samuel Kenton (38) and his wife Marybeth Kenton
(37). Authorities are still searching for the driver who fled the scene
after hitting them behind. Witnesses reported the car weaving through
traffic at speeds exceeding 100 mph..."

His parents had been killed on impact and pronounced dead at the scene.
They left my shy boy at home, but his spirit went with them.

I set down my food and read through the rest of the article then poured
over pages of pictures Mike had printed from their cloud account. They were
all the ones with Dylan tagged in them and went back years to when he was a
little boy. He was cared for. He was wanted. He was loved. I felt a knot
build in my stomach.

I found his birth certificate near the back of the file. I did a double
take when I saw we shared a birthday! He would be turning 18 next month on
the same day I turned 24. I'd thought he was 16, he was deceptively small.
He'd probably wasted his muscle mass in the months of grief.

Next I found his current address. He'd left the big house his father owned.
Mike noted the severe debt his parents had held. His aunt had a small
apartment a few miles from me.

I put my food container in the fridge and decided to head there and check
it out.

I drove over and found the building, an old LA fourplex that had probably
replaced an old single family home. It was aging but decent. From the
street I couldn't get a good look at the unit, so I decided to park down
the street and sneak towards it.

From the sidewalk I could see a light on in the living room. A lady was
watching tv and using an iPad while stretched out on the couch. That must
have been his aunt. I crept around to the alley and saw a window with
lights just behind the trash cans. The cans gave me cover as I moved in for
a closer look. His window was open halfway with the blinds pulled up to
take advantage of the cool evening breeze.

Dylan was splayed out on the bed. He laid on his stomach and was watching a
show on his tablet with his earbuds in. I watched his firm ass wiggle and
his back rise and fall as he breathed. He had his shirt off and was only
wearing a small pair of running shorts that showed the lower part of his
right ass cheek. His skin was flawless and his back had nice definition.
His perfect little neck longed for my lips.

I don't even know how long I stood there. The alley was silent and even if
a car drove by, the trash cans and a big work van provided good cover.

"Dyl!" his aunt yells from the other room. The boy stirs and takes out one
earbud.

"Yeah?" he yells back and pushes off from his comforter. He sits up on his
knees but keeps his back to me. He stretches lazily and scratches his cute
little chest. I can see his budding pecs in the mirror. He has a little
definition on his abs, but not enough to be taken seriously.

"You want more pizza before I put it away?" she yells back.

"No thank you," he says then lays back down. I think he's going to put his
show back on, but he closes the cover on his tablet and rolls over onto his
back. His eyes catch mine for just a second and then I turn and flatten
myself against the wall. It's dark out here and he had his bedroom lights
on so I know he won't be sure of what he saw. I silently slide along the
wall away from his apartment and hear him moving in his room.

I don't go back the way I came. I avoid the front of his building in case
he comes out to look. I creep around the other side of the adjacent
apartments and then walk along the busy street and circle around another
block to get back to my car.

One thing I've learned in my job is to escape without being noticed. This
time it comes in handy.

+++

The next day I find that my shy boy has moved. Dylan decides to change
things up for me by sitting in the seat where I had been and leaving the
first row seat open for me. I smile when I see his skateboard saving the
seat.

"You steal my spot," I say and a shy smile creeps across his lips. He leans
forward and moves his skateboard so I can sit in front of him. I don't like
this, but I play his game.

"I steal your spot," he says with a hint of confidence. I give him a fake
glare but I take my seat in front of him. He's quiet for awhile even though
the professor hasn't started yet.

"Your name is Ahmed, right? Ahmed El-Ami?" he asks. His voice is so soft
that for a minute I don't register that he's addressing me. I turn and look
at him then nod.

"I'm Dylan... Kenton... um... thanks for the smoothie yesterday," he says.

"Is my pleasure, Dylan Kenton." I turned forward when the class started. He
started to open up to me the more we partnered and even asked to work with
me when she announced team projects.

"Why will I partner with a spot stealer? Why shall I choose you for my
team? A wise captain does not rush to decision," I joke.

"Please, coach! I'm the best! I'll be the best mvp your team's ever seen!
Put me in, coach! Let me dream!" He begs with a wicked smile that lifts the
cover from the quiet, shy boy to show the happy, playful spirit he was
before the tragedy.

"Fine! We go to lunch and split work. No foolishness or I bench you!" I
warn with a smile and a wink.

He lets me take him to lunch and doesn't argue when I insist on paying. He
offers me a ten from his wallet, but looks relieved when I refuse it. We
even exchange numbers and follow invites so we can keep up with each other.
I felt my heart leap when he sent me a practice text. He signed it with a
happy face tongue out emoji

We split up the first part of the research paper on Brazil's economy and
decide he will look for articles on the history while I dig up articles on
the present and future. He's a smart kid and he is eager to begin.

He collects his things and starts to leave but I offer him a ride. This
time he accepts.

In the car I pretend not to know where he lives. He leads me a roundabout
way as if he's expecting me to confess I know his address and then he'd
accuse me of being the face in his window the night before. I don't bite
though. I let him guide me as if blissfully unaware.

"I live up that street," I offer and point up towards the hills.

"I bet you have an awesome view!" He says.

"Let's see!" I say. I take a sharp right and he laughs. He trusts me now...
just a little, but enough.

We drive up to my street and I show him the little park near my apartment.
It's too soon to take him to my home.

"Shit! You can see everything! Santa Monica! Venice! Look at the airplanes
landing at LAX!!" He glows excitedly. He settles in to the comfortable
leather of my passenger seat. Black leather looks good around my shy boy.

"You get used to it!" I offer. We get quiet then I start to ask about his
high school. He tells me he played baseball through middle school and right
up to his senior year. He tells me he had to drop it because of his grades.
I know it's because of his parents' death. I don't push.

"The boys who pick on you? They played too?" I ask.

"They... yeah. We played together up til I dropped. I dropped baseball... I
dropped everyone. I just didn't show up or return calls... or anything. I got
rude with them. I said some things... now they all hate me..." his voice trails
off as his eyes mist up and turn red.

"I just... Everything sucks." his voice cracks and I put my arm around him. I
pull him in to my chest.

"You are safe, boy. Let it out. I am here," I say in my deepest, most
reassuring tone.

The dam breaks. His tears flow. He wails like a baby. I hold him closer,
hug him tightly.

I open my shirt a little, unbutton a few. It's instinctual. He hasn't had
his head on a man's chest in years. His wet, salty cheek rubs my hairy left
pec and he cries until he goes silent against my heart beat. That's right,
boy. Daddy has you.

"It's ok, boy. It's ok." I rub his back. He feels so good in my arms. I
don't care who sees us. The world melts away. He feels so good in my arms.

I lean down and kiss his soft hair. He fills my nose with that new boy
smell. I hold him for the longest time. I rock him gently. I want to pull
him into my lap, but he's still so new.

"I'm sorry," he says as he awakens to embarrassment.

"No. You're ok. You go through things that are right for no one! No
apologies. Is ok," I assure him. He sniffles then wiggles out of my hold.
His face is red and wet. His cheeks hold the dry salt of his tears. I want
to lick them. I don't.

"I should get home... thank you, Ahmed. Really. I haven't done that with
anyone. I don't... cry like that." He wipes his face and sniffs.

In the car I offer him Taco Bell napkins. He laughs and blows his nose as
he directs me to his apartment.

We pull up and he starts to get out. He stops and thanks me again then
reaches over for a hug.

I hug him but then just as he pulls away... I press my lips to his. I can't
resist them. I knew it was too fast and too much, but those soft pink lips
begged for mine, the touch of a man who could keep heal him and make him
safe again. I try to push my tongue through them but he clamps them shut
and pushes me away.

His hand hits my chest and I let him go. It's just a nudge but it feels
like a bullet. He backs up as far as he can and tries to reach behind
himself for the door handle.

"No! Dude! I'm not! No! I didn't know you were..." he stumbles over words and
looks at me in horror.

"I'm not! No! Not me... I thought you were!" I say the first thing that comes
to my head. It was stupid but it throws him off.

"What? Really? No! I have a girl... or I had." He laughs then his face fills
with sadness again.

"Oh." I have no words.

"She's gone too. Everyone is gone," he says this matter of factly. He
raises his palms like it's a great mystery.

"Ok...," I sigh. I am speechless. I can picture the sweet girl who must have
earned his heart.

"Umm yeah. Well let's get working on that paper. I'll send you what I
find!" He bails from the car and hops up to his apartment like he's being
chased by a monster... me.

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My Stories: https://sites.google.com/view/emri/
My Blog: https://emriwrites.blogspot.com