A bit more of the tale of urban delinquency, based on the kids we see every day.

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Thanks to all of you who have. I'm glad you like it.

And sorry its been so long coming, so to speak. I've been busy with the rest of my life, until I chopped the end off a finger last week. So I'm editing left-handed now!

Roy.

sunbeamtb@yahoo.co.uk

Street Kids

6

Simon pulled up outside the chippy and fetched a wallet out of the glove box. If I'd have known that was there I'd have -- no, I probably wouldn't.

He opened it and pulled out a tenner from a number of them. I held my hand out and he put it there.

"Fags and chips!" he said. He must have nearly £200 in that wallet, I thought. I held my hand still. He `Huh'ed and pulled out another, and my hand remained outstretched.

"How much then?" he asked.

"One more." I said.

He pulled out a third, and I scrunched them up together. "Thanks!" I said with a wicked smile.

"Still the best in town!" he smiled back.

"A discount, for my first customer!" I said, and climbed out of the car.

"If ever you want to earn any more -" he began.

"Just down the road from Ryan's, I know, but I don't think so." I said firmly, and slammed the door. The tyres screamed as he drove away.

The clock in the chippy said ten to eleven, and I had a sausage and chips hot from the fryer. It was too hot to eat straight away, so I wandered around carrying it for a bit. Strangely, I ended up at the cinema.

It was one of those old picture houses that had somehow survived the conversion to bingo, or cheapy market hall, and now boasted two screens, one upstairs and one down. I'd only ever been inside it twice, and wasn't impressed either time. I wandered up the driveway between it and the Chinese takeaway, which led to the car park at the back. As soon as I turned the back corner, I saw them. Two kids who looked about a year older than me, possibly two years but no more, huddled in the fire exit doorway. It wasn't warm, and their tight t-shirts and white PE shorts looked obviously out of place in the blue glare of the one floodlight that worked. I leaned on a barrier, opened my packet of food and started to eat. They watched me intently.

I sucked provocatively on my sausage, then bit a third off. That had gone, and a few mouthfuls of chips, when one of them came over.

"Fuck off, this is our pitch!" he said.

I deliberately coughed on a throatful of chewed chips. "Pardon?" I said.

"We ain't `avin' no competition!" he snarled at me. I could see close up he was older than the fifteen I'd put him down as. A small seventeen or more likely a very small eighteen, I re-guessed. And very rough-looking.

"You fuck off and find your own pitch!" he added.

"I'm sorry, I'm not in your line of business." I said, looking him up and down and trying to sound posh. "If anyone asks me, I'll send them over to you."

"We don't want an audience, either!" he snarled again. "What part of fuck off don't you understand?"

It was then I saw the light glint off the blade half hidden in his hand. He'd meant me to see it to save telling me again. I stood from the barrier and went as if to move off.

"What do you charge?" I asked as he started to walk away. He spun on his heel.

"Who wants to know?" he growled. Not very customer friendly, I thought.

I looked round from side to side. "There's no one else asking, is there?" I said, and sucked on my sausage again. He walked back.

"You pullin' my pisser?" he said, his face close to mine.

"Not until I know what it'd cost!" I smiled.

He looked at me, weighing me up I suppose. "Thought you was competition." he sneered. "Kid like you could get it without payin' fer it!"

"Even from you?" I asked, cheekily, the `compliment' still sinking in.

He glanced back to his partner, who still awaited custom and looked cold and bored.

"Or him?" I added as he looked towards us.

"You want him? £20 to blow him, £50 for him to blow you. £100 to fuck him. Interested?" he said, touting the business.

I mentally added up what I'd have earned so far this week. Easy money.

"Nah, you're both too old. Sorry!" I said, screwed up my remaining chips in their paper and tossed them behind me.

"Cinema'll be out soon. I'll let you get back to your business plan." I said, and walked off, back towards the road.

"I can get you a virgin ten year old for £300!" he called quietly after me. I slowly turned round. "Would he be from round here?" I said, pretending interest. "I wouldn't want him to know me, and it's a small town." I said.

"Nah, we'd ship him in fer that." he said. God, this kid'll never make a salesman, I thought. But interestingly, my cock stirred at the thought of having a young boy at my command. I resisted the urgent desire to readjust it in my trackies.

"I'll think about it." I lied. "I might be back."

I walked quickly back to the road and headed home. His offer repeated in my mind and my cock stretched its length down my leg, worrying me. Was I going to grow up a perve like Simon? I thought. I fuckin' hope not.

I walked fast to keep warm, and wondered if those two had managed any trade. The one didn't sound from around here, they'd probably driven down from Salford or Manchester for the night. I shivered at the sudden thought that they might have had a minder sat in one of the cars, with a bigger weapon than that blade to protect his interests.

It was nearly half twelve when I got home, and Mum was asleep in front of the telly. I turned it off, gently woke her to tell her I was home, and apologised for my rudeness earlier. She asked me what was wrong, so I sat down and told her a very shortened version about Rye wanting to get beaten and hurt to remember his Dad.

"He's better off without a father like that, he needs to see a psychiatrist." She said. "Things like that need sorting out before he gets seriously hurt."

I said that he would see any attempt to `sort him out' as a way to make him forget his Dad, and he'd fight that tooth and nail. Mum agreed that it would be difficult, but added "I know you'll help him, you're a good boy underneath, Anthony." If only she knew! No, forget that, I hope she never does. I must be getting soft.

"How's Peter?" she asked. Now that was a loaded question, if ever there was one! What she really means is `Are you and Peter still doing naughty things together?'

"He was OK earlier." I said. "We're taking things slow, we don't want to spoil any relationship before it starts." Fuckin' quick thinking for this time of night!

Mum just Hrm'd and looked at me strangely.

"I'm going to grab a shower and get to bed." I said. "I'll see you in the morning!"

A motherly `Goodnight, Darling!" followed me out of the door.

The shower relaxed and warmed me. I washed off what Simon had dribbled onto my pubes, and then soaped up little Ant. He's been a busy fella these last few days, I must make sure he's OK.

I discounted visions of Pie, Key, Jay and Rye from my fantasy as soon as they appeared. Simon was a non-starter, and the two kids from behind the cinema would have deflated me like a pricked balloon if I'd have given them any more than a cursory thought. Suddenly I pictured a little blond curly haired kid looking up at me with a hand outstretched saying `let me do that, Uncle Anthony'! and although I let go of my cock like it was a red hot poker, and fell backwards against the wall, I fired two squibs of cum across the shower. That fuckin' worried me, and I swore not to wank for a week. It wasn't the heat of the shower that made me sweat, it was the thought of what I was becoming. It's all fuckin' Rye's fault, I thought, because he's small and likes me to control him. I determined more than ever to sort him out, once and for all.

I dried off and staggered to bed naked. I just hoped I didn't need to get up in the night.

I woke early for me on Saturday, it was just after half eleven. My mind wandered and flashed back to those two behind the cinema. Had they done any trade? How much had they made? I couldn't imagine they'd come this far for less than £300 for the night's work, perhaps they had other `pitches' to work as well, like the yard behind the Lord Nelson. That seedy little pub, down a side street by the station, was supposedly a gay haunt, but the only time I ever peered in through its grubby windows one evening, there were only about eight men in there, all 50 or older.

Anyway, I was thinking about those two, and the money they could earn. Would I do it? Tempting, but I don't think so. I realise I was lucky with Simon, he could have turned out quite different. I could be dead now, dumped over that fence where we gazed at the town's lights, and I gave him a kiddy wank. Still, I learned a bit more about Rye.

Rye. I wished I'd never done that to him, I should have just smacked his head against the wall as a threat and walked away. Fancy him wanting to get slapped to remember his Dad. Fancy his Dad being such a shit to him.

I thought about my Dad playing with me when I was little. He was so much fun! He'd wrestle with me, hold me down and tickle me till I giggled so much I'd almost pee myself! He'd play with me and my toy cars, racing them round the carpet, he'd play football or cricket with me in the garden till we were both exhausted. He'd pick me up and hug me tight, and tell me he loved me, I really liked that. Poor Rye, he never knew that from his Dad. That's terrible. I felt something roll down my cheek. A tear. What the fuck was I turning into?

I climbed out of bed, found my night shorts and pulled them on, went to the bathroom to empty my bladder, then ambled downstairs to see if there was any chance of breakfast.

"I wish you'd get dressed before you come down." Mum said, "You never know who might call round."

"I can always run back up if somebody does - although, you never know, they might like what they see!" I said, smiling.

"Ohh, Anthony!" she laughed.

Mum grilled some bacon and made a sandwich for me. I'd just finished it when the doorbell rang.

"I warned you! Upstairs, and dress now, Anthony!" Mum said as she wiped her hands and went to answer the door.

I scooted back up to my room, pushed off my shorts and tried to decide what to wear. Both my tracksuits were in the wash, or more accurately out on the line drying now, so I opened my clothes cupboard and sorted through the options. The Levi's? Nah, not today. They were old and faded, and comfortable, but I'd grown a bit recently and they were too tight for just lazing about. The baggy skater jeans, I think: I pulled them out from the jumble of clothes and threw them on the bed. The black hoodie too, warm enough if it went chilly, but on its own, cool enough if it was warm. I closed the cupboard door, intending to get a pair of clean boxers from the drawer at the side, but paused to look at myself in the mirror screwed to the door. Hmm, not bad, even if I say so myself. Suddenly, behind my reflection in the mirror, I saw my bedroom door open.

"Wait!" I shouted, but Key walked in. His face broke into a grin when he saw me standing there naked.

"I see you've got yourself ready for me!" he grinned.

"Shut the fuckin' door!" I shouted at him. "I don't want the whole bloody neighbourhood wanderin' in here while I'm dressing!" He closed the door and turned the key, locking it.

"Nobody'll disturb us, now!" he said, still grinning.

"I meant with you outside!" I said, slightly annoyed.

"Aw, spoilsport!" he said, and came closer to me.

Instead of carrying on getting dressed, or grabbing my hoodie and covering myself, I stood there and watched him. His eyes were on my body as he walked round to face me. Then they were looking down, directly at my cock. I felt it waver, fill, start to rise. I stared directly at his face, into his eyes. I was getting hard, or at least half-hard, and he was almost drooling at the sight. I frowned.

"Key!" I said. "Do you mind!"

Instead of answering, he reached his hand out. His fingers touched it, slid over it, held it. As they wrapped round and started stroking it, my argument died. I wanted this as much as he did, I knew I'd always want it. And more.

His trackies tented forward with his own growing erection, and my hand touched and held that. His hips moved, pushing the bulge harder into my grasp, then he broke his grip on me for a second, long enough to push the pants down past his thighs, then returning to his stroking.

I watched his cock bob slightly with his heartbeat, my vision taking in its size, not much longer than mine but curved to the left slightly. My fingers grasped it and slid the warm skin over its shaft.

"Better be quick, your Mum might come up!" he said. We stood half facing each other, wanking each other quickly until after a couple of minutes he stiffened and shot a bolt of cum across the room onto the carpet. For a moment I regretted not having him in my mouth. Two more shots of his cum followed.

"Faster!" I sighed, "I'm nearly -- aaahhh!" and my own cumshot flew from me and joined his on the floor. I shot two more as well, but nowhere near as far.

We sat on the bed, our sticky cocks shrinking to their more usual size, and catching our breaths.

"I knew I could count on you, Ant!" Key said, putting a hand on my leg and smiling.

I knocked the hand away. "You mean you knew you could use me!" I said, not loud but showing my annoyance. Key shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever!" he said. "You didn't seem to object, from what I could see!"

"That's not the point." I remained stern. "You came here just for me to get you off."

"Christ, Ant!" Key's turn to get annoyed now. "It was just a bloody wank. I wank, and come off; it feels good. You wank, and come off, and it feels good for you too. You can't deny it feels better if someone else does it for you, so we help each other out. Just friends givin' each other a bit of fun. Jeese!"

"Oh, we're friends, are we?" I asked. "So who would you have gone to if I'd been out? Pie? Jay? Dan? Do they `help you out' as well, Key? Do they?"

I don't know if I was angry at him for using me, or at myself for letting him. Damn it, once we'd touched I wanted it as much as he did. I always would, I was a cum slut, remember?

Key glared venomously at me.

"OK, I shouldn't have said that." I said. "You're right, I wanted it as well. I s'pose I'm sorry."

"I've made a cup of tea for you both!" Mum's voice shouted up the stairs. "Will you come and get them?"

"Yeah, coming thanks!" I called back.

"I'll be going." Key said as I stood and pulled my boxers and jeans on. "No, wait. I want to -- talk to you." I said. I pulled the hoodie over my head and Key flipped his trackies back up.

"Three sugars then." He said.

"What's the talk gonna be about?" Key asked, sipping the boiling tea.

"Rye." I said.

"That little wanker? What about him?" he sneered.

I told him the same shortened story I'd told Mum, but added what I thought his Dad used to do to him.

"Jeese, he's real fucked up, ain't he?" Key said. "So what do you want -- me to do him over a bit, give him a bit of pleasure?"

"No." I thought for a moment. What did I want? Fucked if I knew, really.

"I want to help him." I said, staring at the floor. "Get him to see that he doesn't need to be bashed around to get -- well, get off I suppose."

Key took a mouthful of tea, and winced at how hot it still was. He looked sideways at me. "You fancy him, don't yer?" he said.

"No I don't!" I said firmly. As soon as I'd said it, I wondered if I did. Unless you knew him, he could easily be mistaken for younger than just having turned 13. A couple of years younger.

Key was still watching me. "You're not -- are you?"

"What?" I said, still firm in my words.

"Fucking him?"

I shot my eyes to Key's, staring daggers. Or trying to. "I -" I suddenly lost the ability to lie, and dropped my eyes again.

"What happened?" Key asked. I told him about the `Make me' part. Key whistled. "Was he good?" he asked, insensitively.

"Fuck off, Key!" I said, angrily, staring him in the eye again.

"OK, OK. So what do you want?"

"To get him to see that he doesn't need to be forced to get off, like I said." I repeated.

We sat silently for a couple of minutes. This was a waste of time, I wish I hadn't told him now.

"What about -" Key started.

"Yes?" I pushed.

"Nah. Wouldn't work. If he wants to get knocked about, you can't knock it out of him."

I guess he was still thinking of `doing him over'. Then it struck me! I knew just what to do!

"Thanks, Key. You've been a great help!" I said, grinning. "Now fuck off, I've got things to do!"

He didn't know how to take that, so he stood up, and with a cursory "You're crazy. You just want him on the end of your cock!" he opened the door and turned back to look at me. He shook his head, then ducked behind the door as my badly-aimed trainer slammed into it.

"Crazy!" I heard as he pulled the door closed behind him.

I dressed and prepared to go out Rye-hunting.