Rating: NC17 - Of course.
The young man stood, casually relaxed, as though he were unaware of the simmering cesspool of the urban environment in which he was living and doing business. Leaning against the cool brick building, he propped one
foot, encased in the faux snakeskin cowboy boot, up on the wall behind him and he waited. He knew it wouldn't be long. It never was.
The air around him was searingly hot, despite the summer sun having set hours ago yet the young man never broke a sweat. The crisp white shirt that was tucked into impossibly tight, washed out jeans, was unbuttoned down to his navel, exposing a broad, tan and youthfully muscular chest.
His head was tipped down and because of the brim of his well worn cowboy hat, his face could not be seen. It didn't matter. He knew from his strategically chosen spot at the mouth of the alley, near the busy intersection of W.101st St. and Ash Dr., he could easily be spotted by the people that mattered.
The people with the money. The people that sought to buy what he offered for sale. It wasn't what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but the rest of his life was something he seldom pondered. For now, he was good.
Glancing down at himself, he smoothed his hand over the front of his shirt, making sure it was snug enough to display the outline of the small gold ring that pierced his left nipple. He then slid his other hand on the other side and paused as his fingertips flicked the naked nipple. He really couldn't imagine why he didn't have them both done at the same time. It had left him feeling surprisingly lopsided and he vowed to rectify the situation this weekend.
Before he could wander too far into the mental musings of his nipple condition, the boy's attention was interrupted by a dark colored mini van that pulled up to the corner and sharply tapped the horn.
Taking his time, and with a push of his foot, the boy shoved himself away from the cool, hard wall and sauntered over as the window slid silently down.
"Hey, Xander. How you doing?"
Xander smiled broadly and tipped his cowboy hat back on his head as he leaned forward to look in at the driver.
"Hey, Fat Man. Haven't seen you round here for a while. What's the matter, wife won't give you none of her grocery money to buy cock?"
The driver laughed. He had been a regular customer of this handsome young man long enough to know that any of the perceived insults that came out of his mouth were just good natured banter. And if they weren't? Who cared? The shit that boy could do with his mouth, hands and ass entitled him to be as fucking obnoxious as he wanted.
"Aw, come on now, Xander. You know I don't gotta ask her for no money. I do what the fuck I want, when I want."
Xander barked out a laugh. "Yeah, you're the man. So what the fuck you want, Fat Man? I'm on the clock here ya know. The usual? You want me to suck the tiny little peter you got?"
The driver scowled. Sometimes this insolent boy went too far. He would show him how little he was. He would teach this brat a lesson.
"Little peter? You fucking brat! Get your fucking ass in the back of this Goddamn van. I'll show you who has a fucking little peter when I ram it down your throat and make you choke on it."
Xander obediently stepped back and lowered his eyes. It was the same game they played every single time.
"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to be rude."
Xander quickly opened the side sliding door and he jumped in. Before he even had it closed, the driver threw the van in gear and whipped around the corner, parking it in the far end of the darkened alley. Fat Man wasted no time as he scrambled back to sit on the middle seat and tugged his polyester pants down around his knees.
"Now you smart mouthed brat, get over here and suck my cock!"
Xander tried not to snicker as he used one hand to lift the flabby, overhanging belly out of the way and grip the pitiful piece of flip between his thumb and forefinger. He gave it a couple squiggles and the man giving the orders scooted his wide ass closer to the edge of the seat.
"Tell me! Say it!"
Xander rolled his eyes, careful not to let the customer see. "Oh my God! You are so big! Shit! I don't think I can get all this in my mouth at one time."
He then leaned down, still wearing the cowboy hat, because this one always insisted on it, and he took the red, angry little thing in his mouth. He then expertly went to work.
"Yeah, yeah, oh fuck, yeah just like that. Goddamn you're a good cock sucker. Yeah, take it all in. Yeah, whose got the biggest cock now? Yeah, Boy. Ram all that cock meat down your throat."
With his thick, fleshy thighs spread wide apart, the driver ran his hands down to the sides of his wrinkled sac and Xander knew this would be a fast one. As insurance, he clamped a vacuum on the little dinky dick and he growled, shaking his head like a pit bull latched on to a t-bone. A violent shudder of pleasure caused the excess skin to ripple all over the fat man's body.
Xander sucked three more times then held his face still as he felt the customer's dick jerk and empty in his mouth. When the dick's pulsing and the client's cursing stopped, Xander let the softening flesh slip from his mouth. He then pulled the side sliding door of the van open just a few inches and he spit.
When he looked back, the driver was slumped on the seat with a goofy grin on his face. "Thanks, Xander. You're the best. I didn't sound too mean did I?"
Xander spit once more then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Hell no, Fat Man. You know I love it when you're the boss. You got the best cock of all my customers. Now, I'd love to chit chat but time's money and you gotta get home and wash the dishes."
Xander snapped his fingers and held out the palm of his hand. Immediately, the chubby man grabbed at the pants that were still pooled down around his ankles. When he pulled out his wallet he held it just inches from under his nose, attempting to conceal it's contents.
Xander just sighed. You would think there would be more trust between business men than this. Finally, the satisfied customer withdrew two twenties with a frown on his face. "I ain't got nothing smaller. You got a ten for change?'
Xander snatched the two twenties from the fat, sweaty fingers and tucked them in his shirt pocket. "You hurt my feelings, Fat Man. You saying I'm not worth a nice tip?"
The driver's fingers twitched toward the green corners sticking out of the boy's pocket. "Oh, well sure, it's just that Helen wanted me to pick up......."
Leaning down, Xander kissed the tip of the now limp three inches that flopped between his legs and then tugged the oversized boxers back up.
"You just go home with a smile on your face and a song in your heart, Fat Man and she'll forget all about that pack of cigarettes she wanted"
Xander then shoved open the door and hopped out, leaving the half dressed, fully exposed customer to quickly wrestle with this pants. With a wave of the hand Xander walked off as he transferred the two twenties to his front pants pocket where he tucked them around a couple of tens and slid it all back in.
Xander wiped his sticky hand off on the paper napkins that littered the floor of the Ford Mustang. He then dropped them back down and stuffed the money in his pocket. With no conversation between them, Xander climbed out of the passenger's side and slammed the door behind him.
He had known from the minute this one had approached him that the man's shame was like a third body in the car with them. It crowded and insulted them both with it's silent condemnation. The john had paid in advance and wanted nothing more than a hand job given by a handsome young man.
Xander didn't comment or even acknowledge the small card clipped to the back of the sun visor. The picture I.D. identified the driver and recipient of the monkey spanking as one Reverend James O'Brien. Xander didn't care. Money from the collection plate spent as well as any other.
When he was finished, he left and the good pastor spun away from the curb and the boy whore as fast as he could. Xander just shrugged and counted his night's take. It was nearly sun up and he had had an amazingly profitable evening. Seemed like half the city was horny tonight.
Taking his hat off, Xander ran his fingers through his long dark hair before perching the hat back on his head and starting the short walk back to his small apartment.
Before he had gotten two blocks, he could hear his name being called and he turned around. He had already decided if it was another john, he would pass. He was tired, hungry and had closed up shop.
"Hey, Xan, fuck you walk fast. Didn't you hear me? Fuck, I been calling your fuckin' name since Page street. Fuck!"
Xander lifted his face to look at the tall, lanky boy who was trying to catch his breath and talk at the same time. Xander subtly tucked his handful of bills in his pants before his friend could spot it. They were buds but nothing ruined a friendship like money. "Catch your breath. Damn, Joe Blow. What?"
Joe Bellows put a hand at his burning side and straightened up trying to catch his breath. Joey was a nice Catholic boy from the East side who had found himself living on the streets due to a combined medical issue of ADHD and sticky fingers. It seemed that Joe couldn't concentrate on anything but what he was stealing at the moment. His Father, the cop, was embarrassed, to say the least.
"Hey, I got a hell of a deal for you. You know the Expo Center is having that Import/Export show this week, well I got a call about some guys wantin' a stack and pack. Course right away I thought of you. My good Buddy. My Pal. What do you say?"
Xander's brow wrinkled along with his nose. He had mixed feelings. A stack and pack was an orgy. Usually a group of older, society-straight middle aged men who suddenly find themselves in a town where no one knows them. Anonymity is apparently a hell of an aphrodisiac. They like to rip loose, getting high snorting coke and poppers and living out all their wildest fantasies doing the dirty with bodies of young men.
The money was good, but sometimes things got out of hand. Men like that can flip like a switch. It's all good when they're standing around in a circle jerking and watching each other butt fuck the firm young ass of a boy whore but once all wads have been shot, the second thoughts, fueled by macho posturing kick in and things can get ugly.
"I don't know, Joe. Last time........"
"Ah, come on Xan. Last time was a bunch of car salesmen and you know what pricks they can be. Hell, we got paid anyway didn't we?"
Xander snorted. "Fuck, yeah we got paid. We got fuckin' paid cause after the short one broke your nose, I pulled a razor out of my boot and held it to his throat till the others paid us."
Joe laughed at the memory and Xander had to join him. The sight of those four balding, flabby middle aged men all standing around buck naked and scared to death that the cops would come over if their friend was killed caused them to not only pay, but offer a tidy tip. Fear of embarrassment was a hell of an incentive.
Still, Xander wasn't convinced.
"Shit, Joe. You know them S&P parties can take all night. They pay good but by the time we get out, it's too late to do any other business. How much they offering?"
Joey could see his friend wavering and he knew he had him. "Hold on to your socks, Buddy. There will be four of them, just the two of us, and they are offering us $500. A PIECE!"
Xander's mouth fell open and he took a step back. "$500? What the fuck do they want us to do? Swing by our dicks from the chandeliers? Come on now Joe, that don't smell right."
Joe Blow fidgeted, a sign that he hadn't had his daily hit of heroin, and he rubbed his hand over his face. Xander knew, without a doubt, why Joey needed the money but he let his friend continue his sales pitch anyway to give himself time to think.
"Nay, they's just a bunch of hicks from the West Virginny sticks and they want them some big city boy pud. Come on, Xan. There's just gonna be four of them and you and me. We blow 'em, we let um poke us in the ass a couple times and we collect a big payday. Fuck with that much moola we can take a couple nights off. Come on, whadda say?"
Xander gave it a lot of thought. S&P's seldom went well but half a large was a lot of money to turn your back on. He could pay some bills, get some new jeans, and to be honest, a night or two off to go see a movie or just relax was like a carrot in the donkey's face.
Joey B. threw his arm around his friend's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.
"I knew you'd do it. Fuck, Xan, it's gonna be a piece of cake. Thanks, shit I won't forget this. You go get some sleep. I'll be by at sundown tonight and pick you up. They want us to be at the Holiday Inn down on Highway 39 at around ten. I promise it's gonna be fine."
"Yeah, I'm sure it will."
Deal made, Xander turned to go up the steps of the boarding house to his rented rooms when the hesitant voice bid him wait.
Xander's shoulders slumped and he sighed before plastering the tired smile on his face and turning back around. Joey stood where Xander had left him wringing his hands together.
"Can you, um, spot me a Grant? I promise I'll pay you back after tomorrow night. You know I'm good for it."
Xander slowly descended the cracked cement steps. Reaching into his pocket, he held his wad tightly in his closed fist and pealed off a fifty, one he was certain he would never see again. Joey snatched it from the extended grip. He let out a whoop of excitement and took off running down the street waving it high in the air and shouting,
"Thanks, Xan. See ya tomorrow night!"
Spike leaned forward and stared into the computer screen. He typed in various names, alias's and descriptions searching for the information that so far had eluded him. His desk was stacked high on both sides of him with
manilla folders that contained pictures, rap sheets and international warrants. Everything that led nowhere. All dead ends. All empty leads.
Finally, taking the black rimmed glasses off his nose and tossing them down he rubbed his hands over his tired eyes and he slumped back in his chair.
He checked the time on his watch and wasn't at all surprised to see that it was well past both supper and quitting time, a point made even more clear by the growl as his stomach rubbed angrily up against his backbone.
"Hey, I wondered if you were still here. I just finished the evidentiary link forms on that car theft ring, so if you're about done too, why don't we go out and get a burger and a beer before we head home?"
Spike swiveled around in his chair and smiled at the young detective issuing the invitation. Penn was tall, trim, intelligent and Spike's best friend. Probably his only friend. Not that Spike wasn't well liked around the huge Metro Police Department, he was. It's just that his quirks and idiosyncrasies were found, by most, to be off putting to say the least.
Rising from his chair, Spike immediately straightened his shirt, he adjusted his neck tie and he carefully removed his suit coat from the back of his chair then, with practiced ease, slipped it over his slim frame.
Penn smiled indulgently as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to wait. He had known Spike for nearly four years and he knew this routine could not be altered or hurried.
He quietly hummed a tune as Spike pulled open the left bottom drawer of his desk and extracted a can of Lysol disinfectant which he sprayed liberally over his chair, computer, monitor, and keyboard. He then shook it violently and emptied nearly half of it on the handset of his telephone.
Penn frowned. "Someone use your phone?"
Spike snapped the cap back on the can, then as an afterthought, popped it back off and gave the telephone one more squirt.
"Um, not sure. Jamie, the young Miss from records was in here alone earlier to leave me some files and I don't know if she made a call or not, but better to be safe than sorry."
Penn was tempted to ask him 'sorry about what?' but had decided long ago that it was less mentally stressful to simply accept Spike as is than to try to understand or change him.
He patiently waited as the Special Investigator then picked up each file and laid it back down so that all the corners matched up perfectly to the one underneath. He then counted to assure himself that each stack held an equal number of files and Penn knew they were coming into the home stretch.
Opening the bottom right drawer, Spike removed the clean plastic dust covers that were made to fit and he carefully slid them over his computer, screen and keyboard. When he finally satisfied himself that all was as it should be, Spike reached again into the desk and pulled out a handful of small sealed packets that he dropped, all but one, into his pocket.
He ripped that one open and tossed the wrapper in the nearby trash can before roughly wiping the disinfectant towelette over both his hands and Penn pushed himself into a full standing position.
"Alright then, we ready to go?"
Spike looked around the room with a frown. It was never exactly right. It was miles from acceptable but he knew if he spent all night here, it would still fall short so he forced himself to look away and he nodded. "Right then. I believe you said something about going out for a bite? Where did you have in mind?"
Penn dropped his face and shook his head. This was the worst part, but it had to be done, so he might as well get it over with. Spike followed his friend out of the office. He held the sani-wipe in his hand and used it to both turn off the light switch and grip the door knob as he pulled it shut. He then dropped the used, contaminated wet wipe into a small container the janitorial staff had installed there for just this purpose.
Everyone who worked for the City, knew that an Investigator of Spike's skill and intuitive abilities was worth his weight in gold and if all it took to keep him happy was to cater to a few odd habits, they were glad to do so.
"Gee, I don't know, Spike. You feel like Mexican?"
Spike snorted. "Yeah, right, like I haven't seen the health department reports on El Burrito's."
"Nope, I saw a report on 20/20 that said eighty-two percent of teens that work there spit and jerk off in the food they serve. Especially if they know the customer is a cop."
"Look, Spike, this would just go a lot easier if you just tell me where you're eating this month and we can go there."
"Not necessary. Really, Penn, you decide. Anywhere is fine."
Penn gritted his teeth and tried again.
"The Spaghetti House?"
"No, I think they put suspicious things in the sauce. Just last week....."
"Fine. Dee's Diner."
Penn stopped walking and turned to his friend quizzically. "Dee's Diner? The one down on McKinley by the YMCA?"
Spike and Penn had reached the front door to the station house and Spike stepped back to wait for Penn to open the door for him. He had seen, during a full twenty-four hour period, how many sick and germ laden people handled that single metal handle and Spike never, ever touched it with his bare skin. Frankly, he didn't know how any informed, intelligent person could.
"Right. Dee's. I was chasing a murder suspect and he ran through the front door, through the kitchen and out the back, so I followed him. I must say, I was very impressed with the cleanliness of the cooking facilities. I mean there is certainly room for improvement, but I've taken several meals there and find it, at least, acceptable.
Yeah, Penn mused. Till a waitress sneezes or you see a spider in the parking lot.
"All right then, Spike my good Buddy. Dee's it is"
Together, the two detectives climbed into Spike's spotless Volvo and he drove cautiously for the restaurant of choice.
Xander was shaved, showered, powered and waiting by the curb when Joey came around to collect him. The sun had long ago set and the street lights cast an odd blue illumination to pool in circles that lit their path on the sidewalk.
As soon as Joey stepped inside the circle of light, Xander could tell his friend was wasted. His skin glowed with a waxy, pasty sheen and the pupils of his eyes were blown wider and blacker than the center of a tootsie pop. His walk was interspersed with small stumbling steps and he continually laughed and rubbed his finger under his nose in an itchy tell tale sign.
"Fuck, Joe. How much you take?"
Joey threw his arm around his friend's shoulder and tugged him close. "I ever tell you how hot I think you are Xan? I mean, hot, hot. Smokin' hot. You wiggle into them tight ass jeans and that hat and, by Goddamn, I could just fuck you myself."
Xander sighed. He took his friend by the arm and began leading him down the street on the half mile walk to get to the Holiday Inn. It looked like this was going to be one of those nights he serviced the john AND babysat the idiot. Really bad part of that was that Joey had a tendency to have a problem distinguishing the truth from a lie when he was in this state.
Xander decided he needed to get a few facts straight before they got there. "Come on, Buddy. We don't want to keep the customers waiting. So, you say these guys are here for that convention downtown? I mean, what the fuck kind of stuff would business men from West Virginia be importing or exporting?"
Joey shook his head and tried to concentrate. "Huh? What convention?"
Xander decided to try again but this time keep it simple. "You said they were businessmen from West Virginia. Are they?"
Joey laughed at Xander's amazing sense of humor. That fucking duck joke always was funny no matter how many times Xander told it.
"What? Oh, yeah, sure. West Virginia. North Carolina. Columbia. One of them odd countries."
Xander felt an uncomfortable squiggle of misgiving tap him on the back. "Columbia? Where the fuck did you meet these guys?"
Joey scratched his head and tripped over his left foot before Xander caught him and kept him upright. He was getting aggravated at his friend for all this mind numbing conversation that buzzed in his ear like an annoying mosquito.
"Fuck, Xan, I don't know. Oh, yeah, um, Toad put me on to them. Said it would square up that debt I owed him. That Toad is a great guy, ain't he Xan?"
Xander stopped walking and grabbed Joey roughly by the forearm, shaking and jerking him to a stop. "You fucking took this job and used me to pay off one of your dope deals?"
Immediately, Joey threw his arms around Xander neck and he began kissing him, pawing him and groping the unresistant, noncooperative body. "Come on, Xaaan. Don't be mad. Pleeeease.
Before Xander could form a reply, their public display was interrupted by the blast of and air horn on a passing semi truck as the driver hung his head out the window and shouted. "FUCKING PERVERTS!"
In unison, both boys turned, flipped their middle fingers and yelled back. "EAT SHIT!"
It was a sign of friendship and solidarity that broke the tension and reminded Xander of what was really important. He didn't have much in this life. He didn't have money or family but he did have this. He had Joey. And the fact was, his life was all right.
Reaching down, Xander entwined his fingers with his friends and he tugged them forward with a smile on his face and a wink. "Come on, Joe Blow. We got a job to do."
When they got to the hotel, they paused outside the huge glass doors that led to the lobby. Both knew they would be spotted as whores and tossed back out before they even had the chance to bid the desk clerk 'Good Evening.'
"Our best bet is to go in the side door off the parking lot. What's the room number?'
Joey blinked. He had never been good at math and pop quizs always caused a brain burp that made any reasonable answer impossible. "Huh?"
Xander wanted to scream in frustration. He jerked his friend back to stand against the brick wall out of the range of the parking lot security camera and shook him roughly hoping to dislodge the information. "Goddamn it Joe, The number. The fucking room number. THINK! There are only three fucking floors in this hotel. Did it start with a one, a two or a three?"
Joey swayed slightly on his feet and concentrated so hard his eyes went crossed. Finally and unexpectedly, they snapped straight and he looked up with a grin. "I got it! 329! That's it! I'm sure."
Xander grabbed the boy's face in both his hands and he kissed his friend's lips. "Good job. Let's go."
With rejoined hands, together they hurried around to the side of the building and into the single door that led to the tri-level staircase and they darted up, taking the steps two at a time. It was all Joey could do to keep up as his mind muddled with thoughts of '329? 239?'
When they counted down the door markers, Xander found the right one quickly. Standing outside, he took a moment to make sure his shirt was tucked in and unbuttoned to display his perfect body to it's best light. He then did what he could to make Joey presentable. "Keep it together tonight Joe. We both need this money, yeah?"
Joey stood up as straight as possible and beamed his best smile. "It's you and me Buddy. Let's go in and blow their sock off and if we can't do that, let's just blow them!"
Xander felt better. He laughed at the pathetic joke, tipped down his cowboy hat and knocked on the door.
Within seconds, the door swung open and a cloud of thick, sweet marijuana smoke floated out filling the hallway and Xander's nose. He grinned at the short, dark skinned foreigner and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "Well, well. I reckon this must be the place. You gents order some party boys?"
The owner of the fat doobie whooped and turned to his companions, shouting "Da boy fucks is here. Come in. Come in."
So, they did.
By midnight, the party was in full swing. The coke was mirrored out in lines on the coffee table and the expensive booze was sitting around in half empty bottles to be shared and swilled by anyone who wanted.
The room had turned out to be a two room suite. A large living room, a separate bedroom and a small bath. Plenty of room to move and lots of floor to stretch out on.
None of the Columbian's wanted to give their names, although they took great pleasure in saying the boy's. Like small pieces of hard, sweet candy, the words, Sander and Yoey would roll off their tongues in their deep strange accents.
For Joey and Xander that was just fine. Names were unimportant and for men like these, identification could be a bit of information that neither needed to take away with them in the morning.
The biggest man, the one Xander now thought of as Curly, because of his tight kinky hair, had staked claim on Xander along with the chunky one he tagged, Slick. The other two were concentrating their time on Joey who was more interested in the chemical party favors.
The party was in full swing.
ADDITIONAL WARNING: This chapter contains graphic S & P. (orgy)
The party was in full swing.
Curly had demanded a blow job as soon as they arrived and Xander happily complied. It was something that he knew well and it went a long way toward allaying his fears. Joey had been right. These were just a bunch of middle aged, closet, fag hungry business men with too much money and an eye for pretty boys.
Glancing over, Xander could see Joey on his hands and knees sucking the cock of one man, kneeling in front of him as the other slowly fucked him, sliding in and out of Joey's ass. Xander watched the slick, dark, thick cock as it moved in and out. It seemed to be happening in slow motion. It was erotic and hypnotic. The effects of the alcohol were becoming evident and he wavered.
"HEY! You boy! Shander, you look here."
Xander's attention snapped back to where Curly sat, stroking his renewed erection with one hand and holding something out in his fingers with the other. Xander took the offered item with a broad smile. He broke the popper open and sniffed it quickly, feeling it's effects instantly snap him to a false alertness.
Curly nodded and reached over to hit the button on the room's clock radio.
"That good. You good? You dance. I want to see you dance."
Xander laughed. He loved to dance. It was what he did best. Next to fucking. And cock sucking. He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to remember what he was thinking about but ultimately decided it didn't matter. He had been asked to dance.
Xander glanced over to make sure his partner was still doing ok and was again temporarily distracted by the heavily erotic sight. The man behind was now pounding, driving his thick meat in and out of Joey's hole as the boy arched his back, his own hard erection bobbing forgotten between his legs. With his blow job abandoned, the front man whined and stroked his own cock, holding the throbbing head just inches from Joey's face, ready to squirt cum on the pale, American as apple pie, face.
"Hey! You dance!"
Xander's head snapped back around and he smiled. Holding up both forefingers, he slurred the one phrase in Spanish he thought he knew.
"Una momento por favor."
He then hustled over and snatched his cowboy hat off the floor. Wearing nothing but his tight, half unzipped jeans, he perched the hat back on his head and he nodded that he was ready. Curly turned up the music just as Slick sat, still naked, on the edge of the couch, gently playing with his cock as though it were his best friend.
Within seconds, Xander had picked up the rhythm of the music and, with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, his hips began to sway. His bare feet took a step closer to the foreigner as his movements picked up speed.
Xander loved to dance. It made him feel like he was on stage and even if the audience was only one man, he didn't care. He was good and he knew it. Blocking everything out, Xander now let loose. His hips humped, gyrated and rolled in perfect timing to the hot spicy Latin music that filled the room.
His smooth tan stomach concaved as his cock jutted forward than pulsed back. Every eye in the room was on him. The men fucking his friend now used Xander for their visual stimulation as their cocks rushed toward release. Even Joey was now humping back on the cock that plundered his sore hole, all the time moving in perfect synchronicity to Xander.
As the beat escalated, Xander turned around and straddled Curly's legs. He bent at the waist and humped his ass in the Columbian's face in an erotic lap dance that had Slick cursing and shouting in a string of Spanish explicitives that Xander could easily translate.
When the music finally ended, Curly released his own cock and grabbed Xander by the hips. He jerked the baggy jeans off the boy's butt and pulled him down to sit on the older man's lap before unceremoniously shoving Xander to the floor.
"I fuck you now. Now fuck!"
Xander laughed and pulled his pants off from around his ankles. He spread his legs and with his fist wrapped around his own cock, gave Curly a wink.
"That's right, Daddy, now we fuck."
Immediately, in a shark like feeding frenzy, all four men abandoned Joey and piled up on Xander. They shoved him to his hands and knees, lined up and took turns sliding their hot, painfully hard dicks in his ass. When it wasn't their turn, they pushed between his lips, slapped against his legs or just frantically humped their own hands. Xander relaxed and took it like a pro.
If they had been playing musical chairs, Slick would have been the winner. He was the one lucky enough to be buried deep in Xander's ass when his orgasm rocked him like a bolt of electricity. The others shot wad after wad on his face, his back, in his mouth and onto the floor. The room was bathed in the flow and the smell of sweat and cum.
By two AM and several more rounds, the room was silent. Sleeping in heaps where they had collapsed after 'just one more time' the effects of the stimulating drugs had succumbed to the alcohol and no one could go on.
Xander moaned. His head was pounding and his ass felt like it had had a freight train driven through it. He opened one eye and looked around. Everyone else was still asleep and from the small gaps in the curtains, he knew it was still dark out. Squinting at the clock radio, it read 3:30. His head coaxed him to go back to sleep but his bladder screamed at him to get up.
Quietly, muffling his groan, Xander reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom. With his hand on the wall and his fingers gingerly holding his sore, abused dick, Xander pissed what he estimated to be five gallons.
As the urine ran, he slumped, thinking that nothing short of sex should feel that good. When he was done, he shook off and went to the sink to wash his hands. After, he ran the water ice cold and splashed it on his face. He now felt much more awake and alert.
Glancing back to assure himself that they all remained asleep, Xander decided to indulge in a bit of snooping. He peeked in all the drawers. Towels, soap, nothing. He eased open the medicine cabinet and whistled low at the dozens of pill bottles. Just before closing, something else caught his eye. A small red ring box tucked behind the Pepto Bismol on the top shelf.
When he opened it up, he was dazzled by the beauty of the single diamond stud earring. He took it out and held it in his hand. It felt heavy, expensive and real. That's when the thought planted the seed. Should he? Did he dare? Fuck, these guys were rich. Probably had a dozen of these.
Before Xander could check himself, he removed the cheap stud from his ear and slid the stem of the diamond through, snapping the clip on the back. He grinned and turned his head as he admired his reflection. He then dropped his earring in the box and replaced it on the shelf.
When he reentered the living room, he dressed quickly, took his pay off the coffee table and nudged Joey with his toe, whispering harshly,
"Joe! Hey! Get up! Come on, we gotta go."
Joey groaned and swatted his friend's leg.
"Go on. I'm gonna sleep for a while. I'll catch you later."
Xander hesitated, then shrugged. He stepped into his cowboy boots and walked out the door.
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