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Across the alley Chapter 1 and Subsequent Chapters
- Thread starter LaloGS
- Start date
upyrkilt469
Sex God
- Joined
- May 7, 2006
- Posts
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Re: Across the Alley Chapter 19
Another great chapter, Gary. Am really enjoying this story.
Vic
Another great chapter, Gary. Am really enjoying this story.
Vic
harry113
JUB Addict
Re: Across the Alley Chapter 19
Gary Thanks !!
This is certainly going back !!!
Wonderful writing
Hugs
Harry
Gary Thanks !!
This is certainly going back !!!
Wonderful writing
Hugs
Harry
Across the Alley Chapter 20
Fiction
That cell door clanging shut sounded like the bell of doom to two young
boys from a far simpler place than the big city of KCMO as they seemed to
call the place. The cops threw us in a cell with several other young men,
at least two of whom were wearing makeup. The others less fancily made up
in the cell, were giving the two painted boys a hard time. The cops didn't
seem to care one way or the other, and after they dumped Steve and me
unceremoniously into the mix, they left us in the semi dark cell to our own
devices.
A larger boy, who was probably in his early twenties, was smoking a
cigarette while laying on a bunk bed that was just a metal frame that was
suspended from the wall. A thin mattress without any bed clothes was the
only thing between him and the wire springs. A hole in one corner of the
cell was something they called the slop hole, and we were expected to piss
and dump there. The opening reeked of raw sewage, since the only way to
flush its contents, was with a hose, which we were told they did in the
mornings when the trustees cleaned the cells.
The smoking man, kept importuning the two painted boys to come and sit with
him on the bed. Both boys looked frightened of him, and stayed huddled in a
corner next to each other. There were four other guys standing around the
cell, or leaning against the walls. They were all watching the smoker
warily. Apparently they knew of his reputation. Steve and I did not, and
found a spot together huddled like Mexicans on the floor with the cell bars
at our backs.
The smoker began to make kissing noises at the two painted boys. Someone
muttered a warning under his breath, and the smoker flipped his butt at the
speaker the sparks scattering like a tiny fireworks rocket.
"Watch it man," the mutterer whined, and ducked the burning butt.
"Fuck you pansy." The smoker stood up and groped his cock through his
pants, walking toward the boy who had spoken. "You want this shoved down
your throat?"
"Get away from me." The boy turned to avoid a direct confrontation,
showing the older boy his shoulder. The bully punched him hard on the arm,
and the boy cried out in pain.
"Then keep yer fuckin' mouth shut or it'll be you on that mattress with my
dick up your butt hole queer boy." He sauntered over to the two painted
boys, and stood towering over them in the dimness of the cell. You could
almost smell their fear of this guy. He suddenly squatted down until he was
face to face with the two boys. He reached out and lifted one boy's chin
and looked at his face.
"You think you're a girly boy?" The boy shook his head. "You look like a
girly. You know what I do to girlys?" The boy shook his head again, tears
glistening in his eyes.
"Come over to the bed with me and I'll show you what I do to little girly
boys like you." The boy sobbed, and pulled his face away from the hand
holding him. The older man slapped the kid hard. "Fuckin' pansy. I hate
queers." Steve and I watched silently while the older man turned his
attention to the second boy.
"you want a swing on this don'tcha honey." He groped himself again. He
stood up and pulled the second boy to a standing position. He started
dragging him across the cell toward the bed. The boy screamed in terror,
and resisted. The other boys in the cell all turned their backs on the
scene. Before I knew what was happening, Steve was standing up, and had
dragged me up to stand beside him.
"Let him go," Steve's voice filled the cell with menace. The older boy
stopped in his tracks. He turned toward us staring trying to assess who had
the guts to order him to do anything. He let the boy's arm go, and the kid
scuttled back to his friend in the corner where they both cowered.
"You want my dick up your butt?"
"No. But neither did he," Steve said, indicating the boy he'd just
released.
"Who the fuck are you to interfere with me?" He punched his open hand with
a fist, and turned to face us squarely. I was quaking in my boots.
"Nobody. I just don't like seein' somebody forced to do sompin' they don't
wanna do. Thas all." Steve looked around the room at the others. They
were beginning to look with interest at what was happening. He smiled at
them and got a few grimaces in return.
"He's a queer. I aim to get me a piece o' his asshole before the night's
over."
"Not while I'm here you ain't." Steve stepped forward, and pushed his
skinny chest out. I looked at him, and then looked at the beefy ruffian we
were facing, and knew we were going to get the shit beaten out of us.
"Steve," I whispered. "He'll beat the crap out of us, and then do what he
wants anyway. Leave him alone."
"Not while there's more of us than him he won't." He indicated the rest of
the boys in the cell with his hand without taking his eyes off the bully.
The bully let his eyes roam around the cell, and something made him sense
his advantage was gone. His size and age had intimidated them, but the
skinny boy standing up to him had altered the balance of power. He could
see the others would join in if there was a fight. He stood to lose if he
persisted. He rolled his shoulders and swung his head on his neck, and
sneered that he'd catch us outside somewhere and then we'd see who was in
charge.
He swaggered back to the bed, and laid down on his back. He took a
cigarette pack out of his rolled up sleeve, and pounced one out which he
took between his lips. He lit it with a match, and muttered something about
goddamn queers. The cell settled down and soon, I found myself drifting off
to sleep.
Morning consisted of getting awakened by a black trustee yelling at us to
get up off the floor so he could clean the cell and flush the slops. He
hardly waited a second before he directed the stream of forceful water
across the floor wetting everyone pretty much from the knees down. He
finally moved on to another cell, nearly filled with black men. I hadn't
seen them the night before, because they had been quiet, and there was so
little light.
A cop strolled through and looked at the cell we were in. He rapped on the
bars a time or two with his billy, and then unlocked the door. As he pulled
it open, he said we could pick up our stuff and get the hell out of his
jail. Everybody, including the bully bolted for the exit as he said this.
I heard him yell over the din of our clambering feet on the concrete floors
that he didn't want to see any of us queers back in his cells again or we
wouldn't get off so easy.
Steve and I retrieved our knapsacks, and headed out the door. We were both
starving, having run out of food our second day in the boxcar. On the
street, we examined our bags for what money we had, and found it was gone.
"Fuckin' cops." Steve threw his bag down on the street, and turned to go
back inside. I grabbed his arm, and stopped him. He struggled for a
moment, but then realized it was useless. We shouldered our bags, and
wandered off down the street wondering where we'd find something to eat.
Across the intersection, we could see a park with people strolling under
the tall trees the like of which neither of us had ever seen. We headed
there, and found a place on the grass in the shade. The muggy atmosphere
was new to us two desert boys as well, and we were both soon drenched in
sweat.
"Hey, you better get off that grass `for a cop sees you. Can't you see the
sign?" We opened our eyes, and saw the two painted boys standing on the
path looking at us, They had tried to clean the make-up off, but vestiges
of it were still to be seen around their jaw lines and nostrils. Their
faces looked raw from scrubbing.
"Come on off the grass." Steve and I stood up and shouldered our packs,
and stepped off the grass. The taller of the two boys, motioned us to
follow them. The four of us walked out of the park toward a massive
building in the distance. I could hear trains chuffing and backing in the
yards somewhere beyond it.
"What's this place?" I asked as the two boys led the way toward the big
building. Yellow cabs were taking on passengers with luggage, and what
seemed like hundreds of people were scurrying into and out of the building.
"The train station," the tall one said. "We can get somethin' to eat
here."
"Can't," said Steve. "Ain't got a red cent. The fuckin' cops robbed us.
We had nearly a hunnert dollars between us." He nodded at me, which I
confirmed with my own nod.
"Well, we ain't got none neither, but we'll get some right quick. Jess you
wait a bit." Inside the gloomy monster of a depot, the crowds were swarming
like a beehive. The two painted boys who hadn't introduced themselves yet,
told us to wait by a news stand near a hall way that led to the gents' room.
They looked around for cops, and when they felt the coast was clear, they
faded down the hall and disappeared into the men's room. They were gone
about ten minutes, and then reappeared from the dark hall.
They each had a dollar in their fist, and the shorter one was wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand. "Come on," the taller boy said. "This
will get us something to eat. I got a date later today, and I'll make
somethin' for us to eat on later." He led the way into a diner in the
depot, and we sat in a booth still covered with dirty plates from the
previous occupants. They had left a thirty cent tip under a plate, and the
smaller kid slipped it out and into his shirt pocket like a magic trick.
"Hey," Steve said. "Put it back."
"Why?" the kid looked at him like he was crazy.
"Cause it ain't yours." Steve tapped on the table next to the plate. "You
ain't gonna get nowheres in life if you steal other people's stuff." The
kid picked the change out of his pocket, and slipped it back under the
plate.
At that moment, a young waitress appeared beside us, and given that we only
had the two dollar, recommended the grilled cheese sandwiches which were
forty cents each. We ordered that, and asked for water to drink. She
smiled and after retrieving the change from under the plate, took off with
the order.
"Now see there," the kid said. "If I still had that thirty cent, we coulda
had us a coke apiece. `stead, we gotta drink water."
"'Ats alright. Water's good fer ya. My name's Steve, and this here's
Dave." He reached across the table and offered his hand to the younger kid
first. He shook it and said his name was Jessie. The other boy, was Frank.
I laughed and asked them if their last name was James. They didn't get
the joke.
An old man came by pushing a cart, and cleared our table of the dirty
dishes. He wiped the table down with a dirty looking rag, and leered at the
four of us before moving on to the next dirty table.
"So how'd you boys get yer hands on two dollars so quick?" Frank ducked
his head, and put a finger over his lips to shush Steve.
"I'll tell you after we eat. I can't tell you here. Somebody might hear."
The food came, and we all opened the toasted sandwiches and poured large
amounts of Ketchup on the melted cheese. Those sandwiches washed down with
iced water tasted like the food of the gods to our hungry stomachs.
Afterward, we headed across the street to the war memorial, which was a tall
column rising into the muggy air, set on top of a pretty good hill. From
there we could see a good deal of Kansas city, and the Missouri river off in
the distance. James said the niggers caught huge catfish fifty or a hunnert
pounds down where the meat packing plant dumped their trimmings into the
river. I found it hard to believe fish that big could inhabit the river,
and told him so. We argued about it for a bit, while we watched the day
slowly turning late.
Frank explained to Steve and me how he and Jessie had mad the two dollars
we'd eaten on. Steve didn't believe it but he offered to show us one at a
time, because he said it was too dangerous if we all went into the men's
room together. Steve and he went first. They were gone for about thirty
minutes, before Jessie and I saw them run out of the depot and head for
where we were on the hill.
They both had three dollars apiece when they reached us. Steve was
laughing as he showed me the money he'd made. "Come on with me Dave, and
I'll show you how. It's easy."
"Better let Jessie show him Steve. The cops think you been in and out
o'the toilet too much, you'll find yerself back in jail."
"Come on Jessie. I want to learn what you do for this money." We started
down the hill, and were soon in the men's room. An ancient black man was
sitting on a stool asleep near the entrance. He was dressed in dark pants
and a white jacket with a red bow tie on his neck. Next to him was a pile
of clean towels, and a little wicker basket, half full of dimes and nickels
and the occasional quarter. At first I thought this was where the boys had
gotten their money, it would be easy pickings with the old man sleeping like
that. But that was not what Jessie showed me. At the back of the line of
ten or so toilet stalls, Jessie ushered us both into the last stall. He sat
down on the toilet, with his clothes on and told me in a whisper to just
watch and listen.
It didn't take long before the door to the next stall opened and closed.
Jessie slipped off the stool, and I noticed for the first time, and large
round hole had been cut into the partition of wood that separated the two
stalls. He looked through the hole for a minute, then grinned at me in the
dim light. He leaned into the hole, and whispered something. After a
moment, a dollar bill came through the hole, followed shortly by a long
white cock, stiff as a board. Jessie went to work on the dick, and the guy
on the other side of the partition, was quietly grunting and moaning in no
time. Soon enough he squirted his load into Jessie's mouth and the boy
swallowed it down. My dick got hard watching this scene. The man pulled
his cock through the hole, and I heard him zip up and then leave.
"Your turn," Jessie whispered. "Jess ask `em fer a dollar to suck he's
dick." He stood to watch me at work, and I sat on the stool this time and
waited. It only took about five minutes of waiting, with me groping my
hardness the whole time. The stall next door creaked open, and I leaned over and
peeked through the hole. I sat back up, and looked at Jessie. He looked at
me and I shrugged. He leaned over and whispered I should just tell him I'd
suck him off for a dollar.
"It's a priest," I whispered back. Jessie squatted down and peeked through
the hole quickly, then stood up again and whispered in my ear.
"Might be a priest," he hissed, but he's a jackin' a big ol' hard-on over
there."
I leaned over again and looked through the hole. Sure enough, the priest
had his robes lifted and had his hand wrapped around a huge red thumping
cock. I whispered I'd suck him for a dollar, and he wasted no time,
slipping the dollar through the hole, followed by his huge piece of meat. I
tucked the dollar in my shirt pocket, and went to work earning it. Before
the man in black creamed my tonsils, I'd blown a load in my pants as well.
When he finished, he pulled his still stiff cock out of the hole, and I
peeked through again. I could see him using toilet paper to wipe himself
clean. When he finished, he leaned down to the hole, and whispered through
to me.
"What `ud you charge me to come on by my house and let me fuck you
tonight?" I grunted at the thought, but had no idea what to say. I leaned
over to Jessie, and whispered the question.
"Tell him five dollar." I thought quickly, and then leaned into the hole
and whispered I'd take ten dollars. For a moment, there was no response,
but then a piece of paper came through the hole, and then I heard him leave.
I couldn't read the note in the dim light, so I stuffed it into my shirt
pocket, and we waited a few more minutes. We each got another cock to suck,
in turn, and then there was a dry spell. I was itching to read the note, so
I whispered that I was going outside. Jessie whispered he wanted one more,
and was staying.
I unlocked the door of the stall, and peeked out. The old black man was
awake, and his eyes riveted me like lightening in a storm goes to the
nearest rod. I tried to be casual as I washed my hands in a sink. I didn't
have any change to give him for a towel, so I dried my hands on my shirt
tail, and then stuffed it back into my pants. He was making a tsk tsk sound
as I strolled past him into the dark hallway.
Back up at the war memorial, Steve and Frank were lying on the stone bench
that curved around the site, head to head, talking. I sat down on the bench
at Steve's feet, and pulled out my two dollars and my note.
I handed Steve the two bucks for safe keeping, and opened the tightly
folded note and read it aloud. "Nine PM tonight at Passeo and thirteenth
street."
"Whassat?" Steve grabbed the note out of my hand.
"I got a date for later just like Frank." Steve looked at the note. Then
looked at Frank with his eyebrows raised. Frank sat up and pulled his note
out and showed it to Steve. His was a hotel on sixth street room nineteen
for after dinner.
"The guys what want a fuck, make dates. My trick will pay me five dollar
to let him pork my butt. You boys ever let some man fuck you `afore?" We
both nodded.
"Mine's gonna pay me ten dollars, and he's a priest with a collar an
everything."
"Yeah, I seen him `afore. I ain't never had him for a date, but I know a
guy what did, and he says he's got a big ol' dick on `em. and he likes to
fuck hard."
"That scare you?" Steve looked at me with a hand on my shoulder.
"Nah. I sucked him off in there, and he ain't as big as Karl was. I kin
take it." At that moment, Jessie came sprinting out of the depot. and hot
on his heels, were two cops in uniform. They were too far away to hear
anything, but Frank ducked his head, and yelled at us to follow him as he
started running for a stand of trees down the back of the hill. Jessie was
dodging traffic on the wide street below us, and I could hear the shrill
whistles of the cops blowing their tin whistles at him as they ran.
I stopped running at the end of the arc of the stone bench, and watched as
Jessie ran like the wind up the hill toward the memorial. Before he reached
the top, he veered off to the right, away from the memorial, and I saw him
disappear into a crowd of people getting off a bus that had just pulled up.
By the time the two winded cops reached the crest of the hill, Jessie was
long gone from view. I smiled at how easy it was going to be to make money
in KCMO.
Later, we went to a black rib joint in what Frank and Jessie called colored
town, and we each had a plate full of barbecue ribs and a beer, which
another older patron bought for us after we gave him the money. Life was
going to be fine in Kansas city.
Across the Alley Chapter 20
By
LaloGS
By
LaloGS
Fiction
That cell door clanging shut sounded like the bell of doom to two young
boys from a far simpler place than the big city of KCMO as they seemed to
call the place. The cops threw us in a cell with several other young men,
at least two of whom were wearing makeup. The others less fancily made up
in the cell, were giving the two painted boys a hard time. The cops didn't
seem to care one way or the other, and after they dumped Steve and me
unceremoniously into the mix, they left us in the semi dark cell to our own
devices.
A larger boy, who was probably in his early twenties, was smoking a
cigarette while laying on a bunk bed that was just a metal frame that was
suspended from the wall. A thin mattress without any bed clothes was the
only thing between him and the wire springs. A hole in one corner of the
cell was something they called the slop hole, and we were expected to piss
and dump there. The opening reeked of raw sewage, since the only way to
flush its contents, was with a hose, which we were told they did in the
mornings when the trustees cleaned the cells.
The smoking man, kept importuning the two painted boys to come and sit with
him on the bed. Both boys looked frightened of him, and stayed huddled in a
corner next to each other. There were four other guys standing around the
cell, or leaning against the walls. They were all watching the smoker
warily. Apparently they knew of his reputation. Steve and I did not, and
found a spot together huddled like Mexicans on the floor with the cell bars
at our backs.
The smoker began to make kissing noises at the two painted boys. Someone
muttered a warning under his breath, and the smoker flipped his butt at the
speaker the sparks scattering like a tiny fireworks rocket.
"Watch it man," the mutterer whined, and ducked the burning butt.
"Fuck you pansy." The smoker stood up and groped his cock through his
pants, walking toward the boy who had spoken. "You want this shoved down
your throat?"
"Get away from me." The boy turned to avoid a direct confrontation,
showing the older boy his shoulder. The bully punched him hard on the arm,
and the boy cried out in pain.
"Then keep yer fuckin' mouth shut or it'll be you on that mattress with my
dick up your butt hole queer boy." He sauntered over to the two painted
boys, and stood towering over them in the dimness of the cell. You could
almost smell their fear of this guy. He suddenly squatted down until he was
face to face with the two boys. He reached out and lifted one boy's chin
and looked at his face.
"You think you're a girly boy?" The boy shook his head. "You look like a
girly. You know what I do to girlys?" The boy shook his head again, tears
glistening in his eyes.
"Come over to the bed with me and I'll show you what I do to little girly
boys like you." The boy sobbed, and pulled his face away from the hand
holding him. The older man slapped the kid hard. "Fuckin' pansy. I hate
queers." Steve and I watched silently while the older man turned his
attention to the second boy.
"you want a swing on this don'tcha honey." He groped himself again. He
stood up and pulled the second boy to a standing position. He started
dragging him across the cell toward the bed. The boy screamed in terror,
and resisted. The other boys in the cell all turned their backs on the
scene. Before I knew what was happening, Steve was standing up, and had
dragged me up to stand beside him.
"Let him go," Steve's voice filled the cell with menace. The older boy
stopped in his tracks. He turned toward us staring trying to assess who had
the guts to order him to do anything. He let the boy's arm go, and the kid
scuttled back to his friend in the corner where they both cowered.
"You want my dick up your butt?"
"No. But neither did he," Steve said, indicating the boy he'd just
released.
"Who the fuck are you to interfere with me?" He punched his open hand with
a fist, and turned to face us squarely. I was quaking in my boots.
"Nobody. I just don't like seein' somebody forced to do sompin' they don't
wanna do. Thas all." Steve looked around the room at the others. They
were beginning to look with interest at what was happening. He smiled at
them and got a few grimaces in return.
"He's a queer. I aim to get me a piece o' his asshole before the night's
over."
"Not while I'm here you ain't." Steve stepped forward, and pushed his
skinny chest out. I looked at him, and then looked at the beefy ruffian we
were facing, and knew we were going to get the shit beaten out of us.
"Steve," I whispered. "He'll beat the crap out of us, and then do what he
wants anyway. Leave him alone."
"Not while there's more of us than him he won't." He indicated the rest of
the boys in the cell with his hand without taking his eyes off the bully.
The bully let his eyes roam around the cell, and something made him sense
his advantage was gone. His size and age had intimidated them, but the
skinny boy standing up to him had altered the balance of power. He could
see the others would join in if there was a fight. He stood to lose if he
persisted. He rolled his shoulders and swung his head on his neck, and
sneered that he'd catch us outside somewhere and then we'd see who was in
charge.
He swaggered back to the bed, and laid down on his back. He took a
cigarette pack out of his rolled up sleeve, and pounced one out which he
took between his lips. He lit it with a match, and muttered something about
goddamn queers. The cell settled down and soon, I found myself drifting off
to sleep.
Morning consisted of getting awakened by a black trustee yelling at us to
get up off the floor so he could clean the cell and flush the slops. He
hardly waited a second before he directed the stream of forceful water
across the floor wetting everyone pretty much from the knees down. He
finally moved on to another cell, nearly filled with black men. I hadn't
seen them the night before, because they had been quiet, and there was so
little light.
A cop strolled through and looked at the cell we were in. He rapped on the
bars a time or two with his billy, and then unlocked the door. As he pulled
it open, he said we could pick up our stuff and get the hell out of his
jail. Everybody, including the bully bolted for the exit as he said this.
I heard him yell over the din of our clambering feet on the concrete floors
that he didn't want to see any of us queers back in his cells again or we
wouldn't get off so easy.
Steve and I retrieved our knapsacks, and headed out the door. We were both
starving, having run out of food our second day in the boxcar. On the
street, we examined our bags for what money we had, and found it was gone.
"Fuckin' cops." Steve threw his bag down on the street, and turned to go
back inside. I grabbed his arm, and stopped him. He struggled for a
moment, but then realized it was useless. We shouldered our bags, and
wandered off down the street wondering where we'd find something to eat.
Across the intersection, we could see a park with people strolling under
the tall trees the like of which neither of us had ever seen. We headed
there, and found a place on the grass in the shade. The muggy atmosphere
was new to us two desert boys as well, and we were both soon drenched in
sweat.
"Hey, you better get off that grass `for a cop sees you. Can't you see the
sign?" We opened our eyes, and saw the two painted boys standing on the
path looking at us, They had tried to clean the make-up off, but vestiges
of it were still to be seen around their jaw lines and nostrils. Their
faces looked raw from scrubbing.
"Come on off the grass." Steve and I stood up and shouldered our packs,
and stepped off the grass. The taller of the two boys, motioned us to
follow them. The four of us walked out of the park toward a massive
building in the distance. I could hear trains chuffing and backing in the
yards somewhere beyond it.
"What's this place?" I asked as the two boys led the way toward the big
building. Yellow cabs were taking on passengers with luggage, and what
seemed like hundreds of people were scurrying into and out of the building.
"The train station," the tall one said. "We can get somethin' to eat
here."
"Can't," said Steve. "Ain't got a red cent. The fuckin' cops robbed us.
We had nearly a hunnert dollars between us." He nodded at me, which I
confirmed with my own nod.
"Well, we ain't got none neither, but we'll get some right quick. Jess you
wait a bit." Inside the gloomy monster of a depot, the crowds were swarming
like a beehive. The two painted boys who hadn't introduced themselves yet,
told us to wait by a news stand near a hall way that led to the gents' room.
They looked around for cops, and when they felt the coast was clear, they
faded down the hall and disappeared into the men's room. They were gone
about ten minutes, and then reappeared from the dark hall.
They each had a dollar in their fist, and the shorter one was wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand. "Come on," the taller boy said. "This
will get us something to eat. I got a date later today, and I'll make
somethin' for us to eat on later." He led the way into a diner in the
depot, and we sat in a booth still covered with dirty plates from the
previous occupants. They had left a thirty cent tip under a plate, and the
smaller kid slipped it out and into his shirt pocket like a magic trick.
"Hey," Steve said. "Put it back."
"Why?" the kid looked at him like he was crazy.
"Cause it ain't yours." Steve tapped on the table next to the plate. "You
ain't gonna get nowheres in life if you steal other people's stuff." The
kid picked the change out of his pocket, and slipped it back under the
plate.
At that moment, a young waitress appeared beside us, and given that we only
had the two dollar, recommended the grilled cheese sandwiches which were
forty cents each. We ordered that, and asked for water to drink. She
smiled and after retrieving the change from under the plate, took off with
the order.
"Now see there," the kid said. "If I still had that thirty cent, we coulda
had us a coke apiece. `stead, we gotta drink water."
"'Ats alright. Water's good fer ya. My name's Steve, and this here's
Dave." He reached across the table and offered his hand to the younger kid
first. He shook it and said his name was Jessie. The other boy, was Frank.
I laughed and asked them if their last name was James. They didn't get
the joke.
An old man came by pushing a cart, and cleared our table of the dirty
dishes. He wiped the table down with a dirty looking rag, and leered at the
four of us before moving on to the next dirty table.
"So how'd you boys get yer hands on two dollars so quick?" Frank ducked
his head, and put a finger over his lips to shush Steve.
"I'll tell you after we eat. I can't tell you here. Somebody might hear."
The food came, and we all opened the toasted sandwiches and poured large
amounts of Ketchup on the melted cheese. Those sandwiches washed down with
iced water tasted like the food of the gods to our hungry stomachs.
Afterward, we headed across the street to the war memorial, which was a tall
column rising into the muggy air, set on top of a pretty good hill. From
there we could see a good deal of Kansas city, and the Missouri river off in
the distance. James said the niggers caught huge catfish fifty or a hunnert
pounds down where the meat packing plant dumped their trimmings into the
river. I found it hard to believe fish that big could inhabit the river,
and told him so. We argued about it for a bit, while we watched the day
slowly turning late.
Frank explained to Steve and me how he and Jessie had mad the two dollars
we'd eaten on. Steve didn't believe it but he offered to show us one at a
time, because he said it was too dangerous if we all went into the men's
room together. Steve and he went first. They were gone for about thirty
minutes, before Jessie and I saw them run out of the depot and head for
where we were on the hill.
They both had three dollars apiece when they reached us. Steve was
laughing as he showed me the money he'd made. "Come on with me Dave, and
I'll show you how. It's easy."
"Better let Jessie show him Steve. The cops think you been in and out
o'the toilet too much, you'll find yerself back in jail."
"Come on Jessie. I want to learn what you do for this money." We started
down the hill, and were soon in the men's room. An ancient black man was
sitting on a stool asleep near the entrance. He was dressed in dark pants
and a white jacket with a red bow tie on his neck. Next to him was a pile
of clean towels, and a little wicker basket, half full of dimes and nickels
and the occasional quarter. At first I thought this was where the boys had
gotten their money, it would be easy pickings with the old man sleeping like
that. But that was not what Jessie showed me. At the back of the line of
ten or so toilet stalls, Jessie ushered us both into the last stall. He sat
down on the toilet, with his clothes on and told me in a whisper to just
watch and listen.
It didn't take long before the door to the next stall opened and closed.
Jessie slipped off the stool, and I noticed for the first time, and large
round hole had been cut into the partition of wood that separated the two
stalls. He looked through the hole for a minute, then grinned at me in the
dim light. He leaned into the hole, and whispered something. After a
moment, a dollar bill came through the hole, followed shortly by a long
white cock, stiff as a board. Jessie went to work on the dick, and the guy
on the other side of the partition, was quietly grunting and moaning in no
time. Soon enough he squirted his load into Jessie's mouth and the boy
swallowed it down. My dick got hard watching this scene. The man pulled
his cock through the hole, and I heard him zip up and then leave.
"Your turn," Jessie whispered. "Jess ask `em fer a dollar to suck he's
dick." He stood to watch me at work, and I sat on the stool this time and
waited. It only took about five minutes of waiting, with me groping my
hardness the whole time. The stall next door creaked open, and I leaned over and
peeked through the hole. I sat back up, and looked at Jessie. He looked at
me and I shrugged. He leaned over and whispered I should just tell him I'd
suck him off for a dollar.
"It's a priest," I whispered back. Jessie squatted down and peeked through
the hole quickly, then stood up again and whispered in my ear.
"Might be a priest," he hissed, but he's a jackin' a big ol' hard-on over
there."
I leaned over again and looked through the hole. Sure enough, the priest
had his robes lifted and had his hand wrapped around a huge red thumping
cock. I whispered I'd suck him for a dollar, and he wasted no time,
slipping the dollar through the hole, followed by his huge piece of meat. I
tucked the dollar in my shirt pocket, and went to work earning it. Before
the man in black creamed my tonsils, I'd blown a load in my pants as well.
When he finished, he pulled his still stiff cock out of the hole, and I
peeked through again. I could see him using toilet paper to wipe himself
clean. When he finished, he leaned down to the hole, and whispered through
to me.
"What `ud you charge me to come on by my house and let me fuck you
tonight?" I grunted at the thought, but had no idea what to say. I leaned
over to Jessie, and whispered the question.
"Tell him five dollar." I thought quickly, and then leaned into the hole
and whispered I'd take ten dollars. For a moment, there was no response,
but then a piece of paper came through the hole, and then I heard him leave.
I couldn't read the note in the dim light, so I stuffed it into my shirt
pocket, and we waited a few more minutes. We each got another cock to suck,
in turn, and then there was a dry spell. I was itching to read the note, so
I whispered that I was going outside. Jessie whispered he wanted one more,
and was staying.
I unlocked the door of the stall, and peeked out. The old black man was
awake, and his eyes riveted me like lightening in a storm goes to the
nearest rod. I tried to be casual as I washed my hands in a sink. I didn't
have any change to give him for a towel, so I dried my hands on my shirt
tail, and then stuffed it back into my pants. He was making a tsk tsk sound
as I strolled past him into the dark hallway.
Back up at the war memorial, Steve and Frank were lying on the stone bench
that curved around the site, head to head, talking. I sat down on the bench
at Steve's feet, and pulled out my two dollars and my note.
I handed Steve the two bucks for safe keeping, and opened the tightly
folded note and read it aloud. "Nine PM tonight at Passeo and thirteenth
street."
"Whassat?" Steve grabbed the note out of my hand.
"I got a date for later just like Frank." Steve looked at the note. Then
looked at Frank with his eyebrows raised. Frank sat up and pulled his note
out and showed it to Steve. His was a hotel on sixth street room nineteen
for after dinner.
"The guys what want a fuck, make dates. My trick will pay me five dollar
to let him pork my butt. You boys ever let some man fuck you `afore?" We
both nodded.
"Mine's gonna pay me ten dollars, and he's a priest with a collar an
everything."
"Yeah, I seen him `afore. I ain't never had him for a date, but I know a
guy what did, and he says he's got a big ol' dick on `em. and he likes to
fuck hard."
"That scare you?" Steve looked at me with a hand on my shoulder.
"Nah. I sucked him off in there, and he ain't as big as Karl was. I kin
take it." At that moment, Jessie came sprinting out of the depot. and hot
on his heels, were two cops in uniform. They were too far away to hear
anything, but Frank ducked his head, and yelled at us to follow him as he
started running for a stand of trees down the back of the hill. Jessie was
dodging traffic on the wide street below us, and I could hear the shrill
whistles of the cops blowing their tin whistles at him as they ran.
I stopped running at the end of the arc of the stone bench, and watched as
Jessie ran like the wind up the hill toward the memorial. Before he reached
the top, he veered off to the right, away from the memorial, and I saw him
disappear into a crowd of people getting off a bus that had just pulled up.
By the time the two winded cops reached the crest of the hill, Jessie was
long gone from view. I smiled at how easy it was going to be to make money
in KCMO.
Later, we went to a black rib joint in what Frank and Jessie called colored
town, and we each had a plate full of barbecue ribs and a beer, which
another older patron bought for us after we gave him the money. Life was
going to be fine in Kansas city.
End
upyrkilt469
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Re: Across the Alley Chapter 20
Gary, that was a great chapter. I guess it could happen that way, but it must be a hard way to make a living. Keep writing and I'll keep reading. Really enjoying the story.
Vic
Gary, that was a great chapter. I guess it could happen that way, but it must be a hard way to make a living. Keep writing and I'll keep reading. Really enjoying the story.
Vic
Across the Alley Chapter 21
Fiction
Frank went off after eating to his date, and I thought I needed to clean up
a little before I went to visit the priest. Jessie took us to the bus
station, and showed us where we could take a shower. He and Steve watched
my clothes, while I stripped off and stepped under the shower. As I was
soaping up, a tall man came into the shower area. He was talking to Steve
and Jessie as he stripped off and got under the shower next to me. He was
humming and soaping himself, and I ignored him and started sluicing off the
suds. I had my eyes closed, and my back to him when I felt him feel my butt
cheek.
I shook the water out of my eyes and hair, and looked at him. He had a
hard-on, and was soaping his shaft. He didn't speak, but motioned me closer
to him. He ran the soap between my cheeks, and I felt his finger go into my
hole. I pulled away, and told him if he wanted to do that, he was going to
have to pay for it.
"How much?"
"Ten dollars."
"Ten dollars? Sheeit. I haven't ever paid more than five."
"Well if you want me, it's ten."
"Can you take all of my cock in your cornhole?" I looked at him, and
smiled.
"I've taken double that with no trouble before. I reckon you'll get yer
jollies."
"Hot damn. Less get outa here an' go to my room. Ah cain't wait to
cornhole yo' butt." We rinsed off, and dried with the thin towels that came
with the fifty cent fee for the shower. While I dressed, I told Steve and
Jessie what was up. They said they would shadow us a ways back to make sure
he didn't conk me on the head and take what he wanted in some dark alley.
The man was about twenty-five or twenty-six, and told me his name was
Darryl, and that he lived in a boarding house just down the street. His
landlady only had one toilet in the house, and it didn't have a shower, and
was always full with guys going out for the night after work. He'd
discovered the bus station showers, and then discovered he could make dates
with boys there on a regular basis. He complained again about the price I'd
named, but since I was new and he hadn't had me before he was willing to pay
it for the first time screw, but that I shouldn't get used to getting ten
dollars every time I got fucked. Five dollars was the going rate in Kansas
City, and no little cowboy from Arizona was going to come in and change that
over night.
At the boarding house, I looked over my shoulder to see if Steve and Jessie
could see where I was going. Steve waved at me, and I followed Darryl into
the house. He led me up a stair case, and into a small back room. The room
itself was plain to say the least, the furniture consisted of a single sized
bed, and a straight back chair. A lamp with a crumpled shade covered with
dust, was the only light. Across one corner, was a wooden dowel rod, and a
few pieces of clothing hung on hangers there. The high bed, was at least
three feet off the floor in the old fashioned iron bedstead style. The thin
mattress, was covered with a set of gray dirty sheets, a flat pillow with
its chicken feather stuffing coming out of the ticking. No blanket, but
then it was so muggy that it wasn't necessary.
"Take off yer clothes," he whispered. "Don't make a lot of noise, the ol'
biddy what runs this place is got ears like a goddamn bat." I grinned at
his hawk with ears, and started taking off my clothes. He sat in the chair
and started pulling his off as well. In moments, we were both naked, and he
was busy jacking himself up hard.
"Get up on yer knees on the bed." I did as he asked, and he stepped up
behind me and started trying to put his cock head into my hole. It hurt,
and I pulled away from him.
"Shit man," I hissed "Ain't you got nothin' to slick me up first?"
"I'll spit on it." He hocked up a gob of spit, and let it drool out of his
mouth into my butt crack. My skin crawled, but the idea of ten dollars in
my pocket, made me stay right where I was waiting for his cock to slide into
me. He pushed at my hole again, and the spit helped, but it was still
difficult. I relaxed, and pushed back, and soon we were connected and he
began humping my butt.
He began muttering and calling me a pussy whore and a queer cunt while he
fucked me, being careful not to make too much noise. Fortunately, it didn't
take long before I felt his cock began pulsing and shooting. He stiffened
up, pushing his cock all the way into me and emptied his balls. When he was
finished, he just pulled out and left me dripping his cum and spit out of my
hole onto his bed sheets. He dived onto my hole with his mouth, and sucked
and licked my hole clean. When he stopped, I got off the bed and started
pulling on my pants. I buttoned my shirt, and watched him, now sitting on
the bed, playing with his limp dick, still drooling a slick of late cum
across his belly. When I pulled my second boot on, and held out my hand, he
smirked at me, and waved his hand dismissively.
"Pay me my money asshole." He sat up suddenly, his neck stiff.
"Whud you call me?" He was beginning to look belligerent.
"I called you a asshole an' I meant it. Pay me my money before I run outa
here yellin' `bout how I been fucked by a queer."
"You wuddn't do that wud you?"
"You just watch my dust buddy." He got off the bed and picked up his pants
off the floor. He pulled out a ratty tooled leather billfold and took out a
five dollar bill.
"The price was ten," I glared at him.
"'Ats all Ah got."
"Fuck it is." I grabbed for his billfold, and he jerked it away and
slapped me hard across the face. I was instantly infuriated. I hauled off
and popped him one in the nose. Blood flew everywhere suddenly, and he
threw his head back and howled. I grabbed his billfold out of his hand and
looked inside, It was empty.
I ripped it apart and threw it on the floor. He was sitting there holding
his bleeding nose, with blood dripping down his arm and chest. I stood away
from him to keep from getting his blood on my clothes. Under his bed, I saw
a beaten up old suitcase. I grabbed it and popped open. What I saw inside
was an eye opener. The first thing I saw was a pistol. It had a cracked
wood grip, and the bluing was worn off of the high spots, but it was loaded.
A bag of bills had spilled open when I popped the lid and turned it over.
There must have been several hundred dollars there. I grabbed the pistol,
and held it on him while I poked through the bills.
"What are you? Some sort a bandit?" He just looked at the barrel of the
pistol I had pointed at his chest. I realized I had cocked the gun. How I
knew to do this, was beyond me, since I'd never held a six gun in my hand
before.
I found another five in the mess of spilled bills, and put it in my pocket
with the first one. "I'm takin' this pistol so you won't shoot me on the
way down the stairs. I'll throw it in the bushes out front where you can
find it." I leaned into his face, a little trying to be as threatening as
possible.
"If I wus you, I'd hightail it to some other town quick, `cause I aim to
tell the po'lease `bout this here bandit what lives in room four at this
here boarding house. How long you think you got `afore them boys come after
you?" I turned around and slammed the door open, and fled down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, an older woman popped out of the ground floor
apartment. She saw the pistol in my hand, and screamed.
"You ought to be more careful who you rent rooms to Mam. That guy in
number four is a nasty boy fucker." It shocked the old lady, and she
retreated into her door way, and let me pass without screaming again. At
the top of the stoop, I pitched the pistol into the bushes in front of the
house, and ran down the short flight to the street. Steve and Jessie were
sitting on a low brick fence a few houses down the street. I ran to them,
and they both clapped me on the back, sensing something wasn't right. I
told them the story as we walked down the darkened street from street light
to street light while I told them the story.
"What time is it?" I was already thinking about my date with the priest at
nine. "How long will it take to get to the priest's house? I don't even
know where it is."
"It ain't far," Jessie said, but I don't know what time it is." We asked a
man passing on the sidewalk, but he ignored us and quickened his steps
along the dark sidewalk.
"Maybe we should head over there if you know where it is." The streets
grew darker as we left Main street, and made our way into the neighborhoods
to the East. The trees grew larger, and the street lights further apart,
and the houses grew larger and more mansion like. We arrived at the corner
of thirteenth street and the Passeo, and saw a church sitting on the
corner.
"Jeze," Steve said. "You think that's where yer `sposed to go for your
date?"
"I ain't got no idea. What duh you think?"
"What do you think, you should just go up an' knock on th' front door?" I
shrugged, and stuffed my hands in my pants pockets. We stood in the dark
under a large tree, and watched the church for half an hour. we were about
to buck up our courage to go up and knock on the front doors of the church,
when a light came on over a door at the back and side of the building.
After a minute, the door opened under the light, and a thin woman came out
with the priest. He stood on the porch under the light, and watched the
woman walk down the flagstone walk to the street. She got into an old car
parked at the curb, and started it up. She drove away, but the priest was
still standing on the porch, peering into the darkness looking for
something. I stepped out of our dark hiding place into the dim porch porch
light. The priest saw me and motioned me to hurry along and join him.
I scurried up the walk, and he disappeared into the building, holding the
door open for me. When I passed him, he looked out in both directions
before closing the door and turning off the light. He led me through a
kitchen area into a comfortable looking living room. He offered me a glass
of wine, which I accepted, having never had any wine before. He poured it
and told me to have a seat on his ottoman in front of a big easy chair.
He handed me the small glass of wine, and sat down in the chair. I took a
sip, and my face screwed up over the sourness of the wine. I'd imagined it
would be sweet like grape juice, and its sour alcoholic flavor sliced across
my taste buds like lemon juice.
"Don't like it eh?" His voice was soft and masculine. I liked the sound
of it. I shook my head, and handed him the glass. He set it on a side
table, and looked at me. He sipped his wine, and examined me carefully from
head to toe.
"How old are you boy?" His eyes were glittering and he licked his lips.
"Don't lie now. I like my boys young." I looked at him, trying to assess
what he wanted.
"I just turned sixteen," I lied. I figured he wasn't able to see the
additional year on me yet. After all, I hadn't been living the hard
life for more than four days now, and I didn't think I was showing the wear
and tear I could see on Frank and Jessie, who'd told us they had been
tricking, as they called it, for more than a year.
"Sixteen? You sure?" I shrugged, not wanting to compound the lie.
"Can I have the ten bucks first?" I had decided form my previous
experience that I'd always get my money up front.
"Don't you trust me?" He put his hand on my thigh, leaning forward to do
it.
"I'm learning not to trust any trick. The last bastard tried to short me
after he had his fun."
"Oh my." He sat back in the chair, and from somewhere I couldn't identify,
he produced a ten dollar bill. It was worn and actually torn in one corner,
but I took it and stood up to stuff it into my pants. He reached out and
groped my cock while I was doing this, and I just stood there and let him.
After all, I had his money in my pocket. It was time for me to pay up.
He loosened my belt, and stripped my pants down around my knees. My cock
had started to harden, and he leaned forward and pulled me into his fat
mouth. I tried to resist, thinking he'd think me shy, but he put his hands
on my butt cheeks, and pulled my cock into him deeper and started to suck me
off. His fingers were busy with my hole, and he poked a digit into me,
fucking it in and out several times. I couldn't help but respond, and
started fucking is mouth with my stiff dick, while he fucked my hole with
his finger. This activity went on for several minutes, before he suddenly
stopped and pulled off my cock, and pulled his finger out.
"Let me get my dick out boy. I need to fuck you if you don't mind."
"You paid for it mister."
"Call me father," he said, standing up in front of me and lifting his robe.
His clothing underneath, was held together with tie strings, which he
pulled loose and let his pants drop. He didn't have underwear on, and his
cock was already stiff and oozing precum. He was almost as big as Karl had
been, and I found myself looking forward to feeling him penetrating my hole.
I realized how much I'd enjoyed getting fucked by Karl.
"you got any grease father?"
"you mean lubrication?"
"Yeah, lube, so you won't hurt me goin' in." He sat back down on the
chair, and pulled open a drawer in the side table. He lifted a jar of ponds
cold cream out of the drawer, and opened the lid. The fragrance, made me
think of my mother. She had put cold cream on her face every night to clean
her pores out she said.
"Turn around." I pivoted on my feet, slightly constricted by my pants
around my knees. He pushed me down over the ottoman, and then began poking
my hole with a cold cream covered finger again. He played with my ass for a
while, and eventually had three fingers in my butt.
"How's that feel son?" His breathing was getting labored.
"Feels good father. Are you goin' to fuck me now?"
"Yes, my son. I'm going to put my big cock into your tiny little hole, an
fuck you like you need to be fucked. You need to be fucked don't you my
son?"
"Oh Yes Father I need you to fuck me good." He withdrew his fingers from
my hole, and put his hands on my hips. He pulled my butt back toward his
big flaring cock head, and began to push it into me. When he finished
penetrating me, I was sitting upright in his lap with his big thick cock
totally buried in my body. I was enjoying the fullness, and he was trying
to be a still as possible to keep from cuming too quickly.
I started to rise up. pushing with my legs, and he groaned and his hands
fluttered on my hips. "Oh god," he muttered, and tried to pull me back down
on him. I relaxed my legs, and let him slip back to the bottom.
"Fuck me father. I need you to fuck me hard." I leaned over, and put my
forearms on the ottoman. I felt him rise up behind me and begin to pull and
thrust into me. He leaned far over my back, and kept his hands on my hips,
and started fucking me as hard as he could.
"How's--that--boy?" He was gasping the words out with each thrust into me.
I knew he wouldn't last long at this rate. My own cock was stiff and
flexing and I could feel his cock head sliding over the place in my gut that
made fucking with a big cock feel so good. I thought I'd cum before too
long myself.
"Fuck my cornhole father. Fuck me as hard as you can." He was huffing
and puffing behind me and then suddenly, he froze, buried deep in my
asshole. He grunted and let his breath escape in a long flat hiss of air.
I felt his cock pumping cum into my butt. He shivered, and pulled his cock
back and then thrust into me again. I felt my nuts rise up on my shaft, and
I shot gobs of cum all over the ottoman I was bent over.
"Oh father fuck me some more. It feels so good."
"You like my big cock riding your butt son?" He was still shafting me as
he spoke. I really did feel like he could do me again before he pulled out.
Unfortunately, he wasn't up for it, and finally pulled his deflating cock
out of my hole.
"You just stay like that, son. I'll get something to clean you up with."
"I shot my cum all over yer thing here father. I'm sorry. I couldn't help
it."
"That's all right son. I'll clean it up." He got up and went into the
kitchen. When he returned, he had a warm wet rag, which he proceeded to
wipe my butt hole. It was the first time somebody had cleaned me up
afterward. It felt good, and I liked the feel of the warm rough cloth on my
skin. He lifted me off the ottoman, and dropped down on his knees between
the chair and the ottoman, and began licking my spunk off the leather
surface of the footrest. When he had it all licked up, he wiped the leather
with the now cold rag. He finally stood up and pulled his tie pants up, and
hid his nice cock from my view.
"You can get dressed now son, we're finished for now." I pulled up my
pants, and cinched my belt tight. He led me into the kitchen, and offered
me a glass of milk. I accepted it, and he sat with me at the kitchen table
and talked while I drank it down.
"You want to visit me again sometime?" He put his big hand on mine where
it lay on the table.
"Sure father. I like having your cock in my hole. It makes me feel good."
"Good. Then maybe we can get together on Saturday night?"
"Why not?"
"Shall we say nine again?"
"It's still gonna be ten bucks ain't it?"
"Of course. And well worth it." He showed me the door, and I waved at him
as I walked down the dark flagstones. He hadn't turned on the porch light
for me, and I had to make my way slowly through the darkness.
When I found the guys, Frank had gotten finished with his date, and had
rejoined the group, figuring out where they would be. His date had been a
traveling sales man who was selling farm machinery and was horny as hell
according to Frank.
"Wore my butt out," Frank bragged. "His dick musta been this big," he said
marking off his forearm at the elbow.
"Aw shit," Jessie commented. I seen his dick in the hole at the depot, an
he wusn't nowhere near that big. I coulda took that dick, and I ain't half
as big as you back there." Frank hit him good naturedly, and we walked away
in the darkened streets.
"You two want to have some fun?" Frank nudged Jessie with his elbow.
"Sure," Steve said. "What'd you have in mind?"
"There's this bar down the street called the Jewel Box. Buncha queers in
the place, and most uv'em dress up like women. That's where we got ourselfs
painted up last night.
"I don't know's I want to get myself painted up like no woman." Steve
shoved his hands in his pockets.
"You don't got to let them paint you up none. But if you do, they'll give
you money, and sometime they'll take you home with them and you can sleep in
a bed instead of some ol' dirty alley.
"You gotta let'em fuck you?" My butt hole was feeling a bit worn after
having two big dicks shoved up me so recently."
"Naw. Mosta these girls like you to fuck them. Some uv'em don't like to
do nothin' but suck dick. Depends. Jessie an me got seven dollars a piece
in there last night, and we woulda had a bed to sleep in if the cops hadn'ta
seen that ol' queenie all dressed up like a woman gettin' inta her car with
two boys all painted up like hussies. They took us and locked us in their
car, an' then beat the bejesus outa that queer with they sticks."
"Left `im on the ground by his car, an' took us off to a dark place and
made us suck'em off. They took our money, and then throwed us in the tank."
Jessie was incensed as the told us about the cops.
"What's gonna stop them from comin' back tonight?" Steve looked at both
boys.
"Nuthin', but maybe they won't, an' if they do, there's four of us an' only
two uv them."
"I jess don't wanna spend another night in jail."
"Me neither," I said.
"Well, youse comin' or ain't you?" Frank looked at us while we thought
about it. Steve looked at me, and I shrugged.
"Guess so," he said, and Frank and Jessie laughed, and took off through the
dark with us following close behind.
Across the Alley Chapter 21
By
LaloGS
By
LaloGS
Fiction
Frank went off after eating to his date, and I thought I needed to clean up
a little before I went to visit the priest. Jessie took us to the bus
station, and showed us where we could take a shower. He and Steve watched
my clothes, while I stripped off and stepped under the shower. As I was
soaping up, a tall man came into the shower area. He was talking to Steve
and Jessie as he stripped off and got under the shower next to me. He was
humming and soaping himself, and I ignored him and started sluicing off the
suds. I had my eyes closed, and my back to him when I felt him feel my butt
cheek.
I shook the water out of my eyes and hair, and looked at him. He had a
hard-on, and was soaping his shaft. He didn't speak, but motioned me closer
to him. He ran the soap between my cheeks, and I felt his finger go into my
hole. I pulled away, and told him if he wanted to do that, he was going to
have to pay for it.
"How much?"
"Ten dollars."
"Ten dollars? Sheeit. I haven't ever paid more than five."
"Well if you want me, it's ten."
"Can you take all of my cock in your cornhole?" I looked at him, and
smiled.
"I've taken double that with no trouble before. I reckon you'll get yer
jollies."
"Hot damn. Less get outa here an' go to my room. Ah cain't wait to
cornhole yo' butt." We rinsed off, and dried with the thin towels that came
with the fifty cent fee for the shower. While I dressed, I told Steve and
Jessie what was up. They said they would shadow us a ways back to make sure
he didn't conk me on the head and take what he wanted in some dark alley.
The man was about twenty-five or twenty-six, and told me his name was
Darryl, and that he lived in a boarding house just down the street. His
landlady only had one toilet in the house, and it didn't have a shower, and
was always full with guys going out for the night after work. He'd
discovered the bus station showers, and then discovered he could make dates
with boys there on a regular basis. He complained again about the price I'd
named, but since I was new and he hadn't had me before he was willing to pay
it for the first time screw, but that I shouldn't get used to getting ten
dollars every time I got fucked. Five dollars was the going rate in Kansas
City, and no little cowboy from Arizona was going to come in and change that
over night.
At the boarding house, I looked over my shoulder to see if Steve and Jessie
could see where I was going. Steve waved at me, and I followed Darryl into
the house. He led me up a stair case, and into a small back room. The room
itself was plain to say the least, the furniture consisted of a single sized
bed, and a straight back chair. A lamp with a crumpled shade covered with
dust, was the only light. Across one corner, was a wooden dowel rod, and a
few pieces of clothing hung on hangers there. The high bed, was at least
three feet off the floor in the old fashioned iron bedstead style. The thin
mattress, was covered with a set of gray dirty sheets, a flat pillow with
its chicken feather stuffing coming out of the ticking. No blanket, but
then it was so muggy that it wasn't necessary.
"Take off yer clothes," he whispered. "Don't make a lot of noise, the ol'
biddy what runs this place is got ears like a goddamn bat." I grinned at
his hawk with ears, and started taking off my clothes. He sat in the chair
and started pulling his off as well. In moments, we were both naked, and he
was busy jacking himself up hard.
"Get up on yer knees on the bed." I did as he asked, and he stepped up
behind me and started trying to put his cock head into my hole. It hurt,
and I pulled away from him.
"Shit man," I hissed "Ain't you got nothin' to slick me up first?"
"I'll spit on it." He hocked up a gob of spit, and let it drool out of his
mouth into my butt crack. My skin crawled, but the idea of ten dollars in
my pocket, made me stay right where I was waiting for his cock to slide into
me. He pushed at my hole again, and the spit helped, but it was still
difficult. I relaxed, and pushed back, and soon we were connected and he
began humping my butt.
He began muttering and calling me a pussy whore and a queer cunt while he
fucked me, being careful not to make too much noise. Fortunately, it didn't
take long before I felt his cock began pulsing and shooting. He stiffened
up, pushing his cock all the way into me and emptied his balls. When he was
finished, he just pulled out and left me dripping his cum and spit out of my
hole onto his bed sheets. He dived onto my hole with his mouth, and sucked
and licked my hole clean. When he stopped, I got off the bed and started
pulling on my pants. I buttoned my shirt, and watched him, now sitting on
the bed, playing with his limp dick, still drooling a slick of late cum
across his belly. When I pulled my second boot on, and held out my hand, he
smirked at me, and waved his hand dismissively.
"Pay me my money asshole." He sat up suddenly, his neck stiff.
"Whud you call me?" He was beginning to look belligerent.
"I called you a asshole an' I meant it. Pay me my money before I run outa
here yellin' `bout how I been fucked by a queer."
"You wuddn't do that wud you?"
"You just watch my dust buddy." He got off the bed and picked up his pants
off the floor. He pulled out a ratty tooled leather billfold and took out a
five dollar bill.
"The price was ten," I glared at him.
"'Ats all Ah got."
"Fuck it is." I grabbed for his billfold, and he jerked it away and
slapped me hard across the face. I was instantly infuriated. I hauled off
and popped him one in the nose. Blood flew everywhere suddenly, and he
threw his head back and howled. I grabbed his billfold out of his hand and
looked inside, It was empty.
I ripped it apart and threw it on the floor. He was sitting there holding
his bleeding nose, with blood dripping down his arm and chest. I stood away
from him to keep from getting his blood on my clothes. Under his bed, I saw
a beaten up old suitcase. I grabbed it and popped open. What I saw inside
was an eye opener. The first thing I saw was a pistol. It had a cracked
wood grip, and the bluing was worn off of the high spots, but it was loaded.
A bag of bills had spilled open when I popped the lid and turned it over.
There must have been several hundred dollars there. I grabbed the pistol,
and held it on him while I poked through the bills.
"What are you? Some sort a bandit?" He just looked at the barrel of the
pistol I had pointed at his chest. I realized I had cocked the gun. How I
knew to do this, was beyond me, since I'd never held a six gun in my hand
before.
I found another five in the mess of spilled bills, and put it in my pocket
with the first one. "I'm takin' this pistol so you won't shoot me on the
way down the stairs. I'll throw it in the bushes out front where you can
find it." I leaned into his face, a little trying to be as threatening as
possible.
"If I wus you, I'd hightail it to some other town quick, `cause I aim to
tell the po'lease `bout this here bandit what lives in room four at this
here boarding house. How long you think you got `afore them boys come after
you?" I turned around and slammed the door open, and fled down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, an older woman popped out of the ground floor
apartment. She saw the pistol in my hand, and screamed.
"You ought to be more careful who you rent rooms to Mam. That guy in
number four is a nasty boy fucker." It shocked the old lady, and she
retreated into her door way, and let me pass without screaming again. At
the top of the stoop, I pitched the pistol into the bushes in front of the
house, and ran down the short flight to the street. Steve and Jessie were
sitting on a low brick fence a few houses down the street. I ran to them,
and they both clapped me on the back, sensing something wasn't right. I
told them the story as we walked down the darkened street from street light
to street light while I told them the story.
"What time is it?" I was already thinking about my date with the priest at
nine. "How long will it take to get to the priest's house? I don't even
know where it is."
"It ain't far," Jessie said, but I don't know what time it is." We asked a
man passing on the sidewalk, but he ignored us and quickened his steps
along the dark sidewalk.
"Maybe we should head over there if you know where it is." The streets
grew darker as we left Main street, and made our way into the neighborhoods
to the East. The trees grew larger, and the street lights further apart,
and the houses grew larger and more mansion like. We arrived at the corner
of thirteenth street and the Passeo, and saw a church sitting on the
corner.
"Jeze," Steve said. "You think that's where yer `sposed to go for your
date?"
"I ain't got no idea. What duh you think?"
"What do you think, you should just go up an' knock on th' front door?" I
shrugged, and stuffed my hands in my pants pockets. We stood in the dark
under a large tree, and watched the church for half an hour. we were about
to buck up our courage to go up and knock on the front doors of the church,
when a light came on over a door at the back and side of the building.
After a minute, the door opened under the light, and a thin woman came out
with the priest. He stood on the porch under the light, and watched the
woman walk down the flagstone walk to the street. She got into an old car
parked at the curb, and started it up. She drove away, but the priest was
still standing on the porch, peering into the darkness looking for
something. I stepped out of our dark hiding place into the dim porch porch
light. The priest saw me and motioned me to hurry along and join him.
I scurried up the walk, and he disappeared into the building, holding the
door open for me. When I passed him, he looked out in both directions
before closing the door and turning off the light. He led me through a
kitchen area into a comfortable looking living room. He offered me a glass
of wine, which I accepted, having never had any wine before. He poured it
and told me to have a seat on his ottoman in front of a big easy chair.
He handed me the small glass of wine, and sat down in the chair. I took a
sip, and my face screwed up over the sourness of the wine. I'd imagined it
would be sweet like grape juice, and its sour alcoholic flavor sliced across
my taste buds like lemon juice.
"Don't like it eh?" His voice was soft and masculine. I liked the sound
of it. I shook my head, and handed him the glass. He set it on a side
table, and looked at me. He sipped his wine, and examined me carefully from
head to toe.
"How old are you boy?" His eyes were glittering and he licked his lips.
"Don't lie now. I like my boys young." I looked at him, trying to assess
what he wanted.
"I just turned sixteen," I lied. I figured he wasn't able to see the
additional year on me yet. After all, I hadn't been living the hard
life for more than four days now, and I didn't think I was showing the wear
and tear I could see on Frank and Jessie, who'd told us they had been
tricking, as they called it, for more than a year.
"Sixteen? You sure?" I shrugged, not wanting to compound the lie.
"Can I have the ten bucks first?" I had decided form my previous
experience that I'd always get my money up front.
"Don't you trust me?" He put his hand on my thigh, leaning forward to do
it.
"I'm learning not to trust any trick. The last bastard tried to short me
after he had his fun."
"Oh my." He sat back in the chair, and from somewhere I couldn't identify,
he produced a ten dollar bill. It was worn and actually torn in one corner,
but I took it and stood up to stuff it into my pants. He reached out and
groped my cock while I was doing this, and I just stood there and let him.
After all, I had his money in my pocket. It was time for me to pay up.
He loosened my belt, and stripped my pants down around my knees. My cock
had started to harden, and he leaned forward and pulled me into his fat
mouth. I tried to resist, thinking he'd think me shy, but he put his hands
on my butt cheeks, and pulled my cock into him deeper and started to suck me
off. His fingers were busy with my hole, and he poked a digit into me,
fucking it in and out several times. I couldn't help but respond, and
started fucking is mouth with my stiff dick, while he fucked my hole with
his finger. This activity went on for several minutes, before he suddenly
stopped and pulled off my cock, and pulled his finger out.
"Let me get my dick out boy. I need to fuck you if you don't mind."
"You paid for it mister."
"Call me father," he said, standing up in front of me and lifting his robe.
His clothing underneath, was held together with tie strings, which he
pulled loose and let his pants drop. He didn't have underwear on, and his
cock was already stiff and oozing precum. He was almost as big as Karl had
been, and I found myself looking forward to feeling him penetrating my hole.
I realized how much I'd enjoyed getting fucked by Karl.
"you got any grease father?"
"you mean lubrication?"
"Yeah, lube, so you won't hurt me goin' in." He sat back down on the
chair, and pulled open a drawer in the side table. He lifted a jar of ponds
cold cream out of the drawer, and opened the lid. The fragrance, made me
think of my mother. She had put cold cream on her face every night to clean
her pores out she said.
"Turn around." I pivoted on my feet, slightly constricted by my pants
around my knees. He pushed me down over the ottoman, and then began poking
my hole with a cold cream covered finger again. He played with my ass for a
while, and eventually had three fingers in my butt.
"How's that feel son?" His breathing was getting labored.
"Feels good father. Are you goin' to fuck me now?"
"Yes, my son. I'm going to put my big cock into your tiny little hole, an
fuck you like you need to be fucked. You need to be fucked don't you my
son?"
"Oh Yes Father I need you to fuck me good." He withdrew his fingers from
my hole, and put his hands on my hips. He pulled my butt back toward his
big flaring cock head, and began to push it into me. When he finished
penetrating me, I was sitting upright in his lap with his big thick cock
totally buried in my body. I was enjoying the fullness, and he was trying
to be a still as possible to keep from cuming too quickly.
I started to rise up. pushing with my legs, and he groaned and his hands
fluttered on my hips. "Oh god," he muttered, and tried to pull me back down
on him. I relaxed my legs, and let him slip back to the bottom.
"Fuck me father. I need you to fuck me hard." I leaned over, and put my
forearms on the ottoman. I felt him rise up behind me and begin to pull and
thrust into me. He leaned far over my back, and kept his hands on my hips,
and started fucking me as hard as he could.
"How's--that--boy?" He was gasping the words out with each thrust into me.
I knew he wouldn't last long at this rate. My own cock was stiff and
flexing and I could feel his cock head sliding over the place in my gut that
made fucking with a big cock feel so good. I thought I'd cum before too
long myself.
"Fuck my cornhole father. Fuck me as hard as you can." He was huffing
and puffing behind me and then suddenly, he froze, buried deep in my
asshole. He grunted and let his breath escape in a long flat hiss of air.
I felt his cock pumping cum into my butt. He shivered, and pulled his cock
back and then thrust into me again. I felt my nuts rise up on my shaft, and
I shot gobs of cum all over the ottoman I was bent over.
"Oh father fuck me some more. It feels so good."
"You like my big cock riding your butt son?" He was still shafting me as
he spoke. I really did feel like he could do me again before he pulled out.
Unfortunately, he wasn't up for it, and finally pulled his deflating cock
out of my hole.
"You just stay like that, son. I'll get something to clean you up with."
"I shot my cum all over yer thing here father. I'm sorry. I couldn't help
it."
"That's all right son. I'll clean it up." He got up and went into the
kitchen. When he returned, he had a warm wet rag, which he proceeded to
wipe my butt hole. It was the first time somebody had cleaned me up
afterward. It felt good, and I liked the feel of the warm rough cloth on my
skin. He lifted me off the ottoman, and dropped down on his knees between
the chair and the ottoman, and began licking my spunk off the leather
surface of the footrest. When he had it all licked up, he wiped the leather
with the now cold rag. He finally stood up and pulled his tie pants up, and
hid his nice cock from my view.
"You can get dressed now son, we're finished for now." I pulled up my
pants, and cinched my belt tight. He led me into the kitchen, and offered
me a glass of milk. I accepted it, and he sat with me at the kitchen table
and talked while I drank it down.
"You want to visit me again sometime?" He put his big hand on mine where
it lay on the table.
"Sure father. I like having your cock in my hole. It makes me feel good."
"Good. Then maybe we can get together on Saturday night?"
"Why not?"
"Shall we say nine again?"
"It's still gonna be ten bucks ain't it?"
"Of course. And well worth it." He showed me the door, and I waved at him
as I walked down the dark flagstones. He hadn't turned on the porch light
for me, and I had to make my way slowly through the darkness.
When I found the guys, Frank had gotten finished with his date, and had
rejoined the group, figuring out where they would be. His date had been a
traveling sales man who was selling farm machinery and was horny as hell
according to Frank.
"Wore my butt out," Frank bragged. "His dick musta been this big," he said
marking off his forearm at the elbow.
"Aw shit," Jessie commented. I seen his dick in the hole at the depot, an
he wusn't nowhere near that big. I coulda took that dick, and I ain't half
as big as you back there." Frank hit him good naturedly, and we walked away
in the darkened streets.
"You two want to have some fun?" Frank nudged Jessie with his elbow.
"Sure," Steve said. "What'd you have in mind?"
"There's this bar down the street called the Jewel Box. Buncha queers in
the place, and most uv'em dress up like women. That's where we got ourselfs
painted up last night.
"I don't know's I want to get myself painted up like no woman." Steve
shoved his hands in his pockets.
"You don't got to let them paint you up none. But if you do, they'll give
you money, and sometime they'll take you home with them and you can sleep in
a bed instead of some ol' dirty alley.
"You gotta let'em fuck you?" My butt hole was feeling a bit worn after
having two big dicks shoved up me so recently."
"Naw. Mosta these girls like you to fuck them. Some uv'em don't like to
do nothin' but suck dick. Depends. Jessie an me got seven dollars a piece
in there last night, and we woulda had a bed to sleep in if the cops hadn'ta
seen that ol' queenie all dressed up like a woman gettin' inta her car with
two boys all painted up like hussies. They took us and locked us in their
car, an' then beat the bejesus outa that queer with they sticks."
"Left `im on the ground by his car, an' took us off to a dark place and
made us suck'em off. They took our money, and then throwed us in the tank."
Jessie was incensed as the told us about the cops.
"What's gonna stop them from comin' back tonight?" Steve looked at both
boys.
"Nuthin', but maybe they won't, an' if they do, there's four of us an' only
two uv them."
"I jess don't wanna spend another night in jail."
"Me neither," I said.
"Well, youse comin' or ain't you?" Frank looked at us while we thought
about it. Steve looked at me, and I shrugged.
"Guess so," he said, and Frank and Jessie laughed, and took off through the
dark with us following close behind.
End
Re: Across the Alley Chapter 21
What a twist this story has taken. Love your work. Keep cummin' with the good stuff.
What a twist this story has taken. Love your work. Keep cummin' with the good stuff.
harry113
JUB Addict
Re: Across the Alley Chapter 21
Well Gary, High adventures for our heroes !! Thank you.
More please
Hugs
Harry
Well Gary, High adventures for our heroes !! Thank you.
More please
Hugs
Harry
upyrkilt469
Sex God
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Re: Across the Alley Chapter 21
Like harry says Gary, more please.
Vic
Like harry says Gary, more please.
Vic
