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Archive name: Sleepers.txt (mmmmmm,rape,celeb)
Authors name: "Dream Spinner" <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Story title : Sleepers Too
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This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1998.
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Sleepers Too
by Dream Spinner
The boy rolled his bloodshot hazel eyes in exasper-
ation as the cop kicked his legs farther apart. "Look,
dude," he began again in his thick, southern drawl.
"I told you, boy, just keep your hands on the roof
of the car and your mouth shut," a second voice with a
similar Tennessee drawl replied. It was a deeper voice,
the voice of a man, and a voice accustomed to authority.
"Shit, if you'd just listen a moment. "
"You have a big mouth, boy," the burly policeman
warned, his voice straining as he tried to hold back
his anger. "Don't open it again." Of the two occupants
of the car, this boy had been the most vocal and the
most hyper. Spotting a bulge in the boy's trouser
pocket, the police officer reached inside.
"Hey, what the fuck you doing, coping a feel?" the
boy asked. "You some sort of fag?"
Taking a cigarette box out of the boy's pocket, the
officer opened it up. Inside were two small plastic
packages of a white powder. "Now, what have we here?"
The boy's heart sank. Of all the fucking bad luck.
Why did this fucker have to happen to be on Andrew
Johnson Highway at this hour, two o'clock in the fuck-
ing morning? And why did he have to stop this partic-
ular car, and why did he have to decide to do a search?
The Deputy Sheriff began to pat him down.
"Keep your fucking fag hands off me," the boy said
angrily, attempting to stop the officer as he tried to
get his muddled mind to focus clearly.
"Remove your boots."
The boy hesitated, and then slowly removed one and
then the other leather boot. The deputy squatted down
and looked closely. Rolling down the boy's right sock
he removed a baggie containing a green leafy substance.
"Maybe I had better explain who I am," the boy said,
his pitch higher now in his excitement, and his slurred
words betraying the fact he was not totally in control
of his tongue.
"Don't matter who you are boy. All I know is you
are in one pile of trouble."
"Hey, what the shit you doing man?" the boy ex-
claimed as he felt the cuffs slip around his wrists.
"Asshole, listen to me."
The policeman spun the fifteen-year-old boy around
and grabbed him by the front of his expensive black
Italian leather jacket. Although he was five foot ten,
he was only a hundred and thirty-five pounds, no match
for the solidly built policeman. "No, you listen to me
you little snot. You are under arrest for suspicion
of possession, and for being under the influence of an
illicit drug. Anything you say may and can be used
against you in a court of law. You have the right to
an attorney. . . ."
The boy did not hear the rest. This could not be
happening to him, not him of all people. He walked
over to the police cruiser and got into the back seat.
As the cruiser pulled away, he saw the Deputy Sheriff
was still talking to the driver of the car, his nine-
teen-year-old cousin.
Why had this happened to him? The evening had begun
innocently enough. He had gone out for a smoke. He
had been smoking since he was eleven or twelve. His
grandmother did not like him smoking. Considering she
was the only one in the family who would put up with
him after his parents split up and his mother decided
she couldn't handle him, he did owe her at least that
much not to do it in front of her. He met up with a
couple of the guys at the park and then a buddy drove
up and they decided to cruise for girls for a while.
Then they met up with his cousin Mark and one thing
lead to another and somehow he ended up at the party.
It was wild, a lot of older dudes, and a lot of chicks.
Of course a lot of them knew who he was and right away
began to swarm around him.
He hated that. Ninety-eight percent of them all
wanted something, an autograph, a picture, a part in
a movie, a favor, a kiss, his underwear. . . . One
point nine percent of them were just in a state of
shock oh wow, oh shit, guess who was at the party last
night wide eyed giggles type. That left the point one
percent who just wanted to know him as him, but they
could never get close to him. That was his life. He
had a lot of friends when he was growing up, but none
that really cared about him. Now that he was a suc-
cessful movie star, things were no different.
He did not want to be a teen idol, but he knew he
had the looks and body that made hearts throb. That
was not him, but when you are fifteen and hot and
horny, it is hard not to take advantage of that image
sometimes, and doubly hard when it's that image that
one's agents are always promoting. Besides, he liked
the image of being daring, and he liked to flirt, so
he didn't mind shedding his shirt and looking provo-
catively into the camera. A lot of his fans didn't
understand why he'd strike such sexy poses and thought
it undermined his real talent, but to him, it was all
part of his image, sexy and bold. He was a just-lock-
him-up-and-throw-away-the-key- type dude. When you have
a rep of being a bad boy, you might as well play it up
when it is to your advantage, even if you'd rather be
at home playing the blues on your guitar with a few
good buddies.
Anyway, sometime during the evening the tobacco was
replaced by grass, and that was cool. He liked to smoke
a joint of marijuana once in a while. When he was a
kid, his mother put him on Ritalin in an attempt to
control his hyperactivity. If she had put him on
marijuana, it would have been a lot better, he thought
with a smile.
He sort of lost track of things after that, but he
remembered someone offering him some coke, the white
powder kind, not the rival to Pepsi stuff. Then his
cousin and he decided to split. His cousin said he
knew some girls. The fifteen-year-old boy was high,
and horny, and figured maybe this was his night to get
laid.
They were just cruising along the highway when the
red and blue lights began flashing. Next thing he
knew the cop had the car pulled over and the two of
them assuming the position. He had evidently phoned
for backup as another police car arrived minutes later.
The boy tried to gather his thoughts as the cruiser
sped down the highway, but it was not easy. He could
not remember how much grass he had smoked. They pulled
up to the East Tennessee Regional Juvenile Service
Center there in Knoxville. The officer behind the
front desk wearily pulled out a form and began to ask
the questions he asked a hundred times a day. The boy
figured at least now they would realize just who he was
and they could set things straight. After all, he was
not just a hood from the streets. He was one of
K-town's most famous citizens. When he gave his name,
the officer did not even blink.
"Don't that mean nothing to you?"
"Should it?"
"Don't you fuckin' know who I am for shitsake ya
dickhead?"
"Yeah, I know who you are. You're a loud mouth,
glassy-eyed, smartass kid who got caught. Now, parent's
names."
"I don't live with my parents. My grandma is my
legal guardian. I live with her."
"Address?"
The cop went through the routine and the boy an-
swered the questions. Any objections the boy made just
brought him a blank stare and the question repeated.
"All right, step over here and empty your pockets."
"What the fuck for?"
"Boy, your foul mouth is getting the best of me.
Now empty them, or I'll empty them for you."
"I want a lawyer."
"We aren't arresting you."
"Then why the shit do I have to empty my fucking
pockets?"
"Until your grandmother can come get you, we have
to put you somewhere, and we can't be letting you in
one of our luxury suite unless you empty your pockets."
"You're putting me in a cell? No fucking way! You
fucking stupid cocksucking assholes don't have a fuck-
ing clue who you're fucking dealing with here!"
He shrugged off the restraining hand, and then threw
a punch. Squirming out of his jacket he made a break
for it. Two cops had bruised shins, one a bloodied
nose, and the fourth was going to be walking bowlegged
after the kick he'd received to his nuts, but they
managed to stop him. The cop was not too gentle with
him when he threw him into the holding cell.
The boy managed to stay on his feet, and as the door
slammed shut he let out another string of abuse at the
retreating cop. He was mad and he was insulted, and he
was frustrated feeling the high coming down and knowing
he was not going to get laid after all. He had a bad
temper at the best of times, and under those circum-
stances, he just let loose, banging the cell door and
using every obscenity he could think of.
"You know what fucking time it is?"
The voice behind him silenced him. It was not loud,
and it was not angry, but it had a tone that clearly
said, I'm displeased, and that is not good for you.
The boy knew it was 3:15. He had noticed the time
when they had taken his watch and the rest of his per-
sonal belongings. He also knew that was not what the
speaker was really asking. He slowly turned and looked
at the boy who had spoken. The speaker was laying on
the top of one of the three double bunks and looking at
the boy with cold eyes that sent a shiver through him.
His hair was several shades darker brown than the boy's
hair, which fans had described as light brown to dirty
blond, and it was long too, like his, covering his ears
and over his collar. He was about five foot ten and a
hundred and sixty pounds. He had to be at least 17.
The most significant thing about him was the look of
hardness, the look that said don't mess with this dude.
"Sorry, I was just angry," the younger teen apolo-
gized.
"So that gives you the right to wake me up?"
"No, course not. I, I just didn't know anyone else
was here."
"Huh, thought you were getting a private room?"
"Hey, look, I said I was sorry," the teen said, his
anger building up again.
"He is one sorry dude," said a voice from the lower
bunk. The boy swung his legs around and sat up. He
looked closer to the new arrival's age. His reddish
hair was shaved and darkened along the sides with the
top left long and his natural color. He was wearing
a T-shirt and had a blue eagle tattooed on his right
biceps.
"I dunno, looks like a pussy boy to me," came
another voice. "Just look at those baby-smooth cheeks
and nice pink lips." The new arrival turned to the
second bunk and swallowed at the sight of the muscular,
hairy chested black boy. He was six feet tall, at
least a hundred and eighty pounds, and looked like he'd
make a great football player.
"Somebody mention pussy?" came a younger voice. A
boy of about fourteen poked his head out from the lower
bunk. "Oh yeah, sweet looking pussy boy," he said with
a twinkle in his greenish-blue eyes. "I love those
black leather pants." He brushed his long blond hair
off his face as he swung his body out of the bed.
"Look dudes, I'm sorry I woke you, all right?"
"Hey," said the first boy. "We aren't sorry you
did." His leer and words made it clear he had some
fun in mind. The new arrival liked to have fun too,
but he had a sinking feeling that what these boys
considered fun was much different from what he did.
"Ah, look, I'm not into that stuff, all right. This
has all been a mistake. My grandmother will be here
soon and..."
"Awww, his grammie will be here for him soon."
"Then we better get our ass while we can," commented
the black boy.
The boys were out of their bunks and surrounding him
in seconds.
"Hey, look, no."
Someone was groping his ass. Another was groping
his crotch. This could not be happening to him. This
was a bad grade B movie. Someone began to unbutton his
shirt. The guy groping his crotch had found his dick
and was squeezing it through his soft leather trousers.
"Fucking shit, keep your hands off me!" he snarled,
pushing at them, hoping by acting the bad boy he could
bluff them. After all, he was a good actor.
"Rather have our dicks?" the fourteen-year-old
asked, unfazed by his bluff.
The boys continued to grope him. They were hard and
strong and didn't budge even though the boy used all
the force he could muster. They were used to being
pushed around, and not by cream puffs like this one.
"Hey! Fuck! Stop!" The boys didn't stop, and
nobody came from behind the steel doors to rescue him.
"Look, you don't know who I am."
"Don't give a fuck either. Screwed lots of people
whose name I never knew, male and female."
"Look, you do anything to me and you'll be in big
trouble. I'm not just some nobody off the street.
I'm--"
"Not like us, huh?"
"I didn't mean that."
"Fuck ya didn't."
"Hey we just gonna talk or we gonna have this dude."
The first boy grabbed the new arrival and planted a
hot kiss on his reluctant lips.
"Way to go Darryl!"
"Guards! Someone! Stop! For fucksake I'm..."
The boy gave him another kiss as the others grappled
with him, managing to remove his shirt. Their hands
caressed his smooth, soft chest, the chest he loved to
flaunt before his fans. He knew he had a great chest.
The photographers were always having him remove or open
up his shirt to expose it. A hand was squeezing his
right nipple, pinching it. Someone else's hand was
caressing the other nipple, making it hard. This was
not right. They were all boys.
"Stop! Listen one moment!"
A blow to the stomach bent him over. While he
gasped for breath his trousers were yanked down, an
easy feat since the cops had taken his belt. They
had also taken his black leather boots. While the
black boy held him up the others drew his pants off,
along with one sock. He stood there in his white
jockey briefs and left sock.
"Hey, you know, I think I do know this dude."
The boy sighed with relief. At last.
"You in an add for Calvin Klein jeans or something?"
"No," he said with exasperation.
"I seen you in a poster I know," said the youngest.
"Fuck, you're Brad Renfro!"
"Right!" Now they would leave him alone.
"Who is Brad Renfro?" asked the black teenager.
"You know, the movie star. You were in Tom and
Huck."
"Yeah, that was a few years ago."
"And in Sleepers," said the seventeen-year-old.
"I recognize you now. My girlfriend has some of your
pics in her bedroom. Sexy poses, like laying on your
stomach with no shirt on and looking up with those sexy
eyes, and in that black net shirt, and in those sun-
glasses with your shirt off and with your hands hooked
in your jeans, pushing them down. Shit, wait till she
finds out I fucked Brad Renfro!"
"Ah, dude, that's not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be, sexy boy. You wanna pose like
you're hot stuff, then you better be hot stuff. You
wanna stand there with a look that says come get my
body, then you shouldn't be surprised if someone comes
and gets it."
Brad sort of knew what he meant by that. He himself
had said how Hollywood was fake and flashy. What he
had done was different though. His act of being a bad
ass was just that, an act. You had to do those things
if you wanted to be noticed by the media, and you had
to be noticed by the media if you wanted to be noticed
by movie directors. The boy might only be fifteen, but
he was not stupid. In real life he wasn't really that
type of guy. He was much more than just a hunk of
meat. He was an actor. He had a talent.
"Hey dude, that movie Sleepers was about dudes get-
ting raped in juvie, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, by the guards," Brad replied. If he could
keep them talking, get them interested in his movies or
something, then maybe they would forget about this.
"There were..."
"Then you know what this is all about," said the
fifteen-year-old, running his hand along Brad's thigh.
"That was a movie, dude. Fiction," Brad replied,
trying to pull away but unable to move the way the four
had boxed him in. The hand was caressing the inside of
his thigh, doing crazy things to his body. It was
making his dickhead itch, yet his mind was revolted by
the act.
"Yeah, well this is real."
"Guys, we better get this on before this dude makes
bail."
"I get his ass first," said the fourteen-year-old.
"Forget it Blaze. I saw him first. I get his ass
first," claimed Darryl.
"Then I get his face," said Blaze.
"What makes you think you get second choice, dude?"
asked the fifteen-year-old.
"Wanna fight me for him, Corky?"
"Stop fucking wasting time," said the black boy,
grabbing Brad from the back and pinning his arms.
"Darryl gets first crack at his butt, then me. Blaze
gets first blow, Corky the second."
The boys did not argue. Blaze reached up and yanked
down Brad's jockey shorts. "Take a good look Darryl.
You can tell your girlfriend what her hot teen heart-
throb really has between his legs."
"Hey he ain't too bad hung actually."
"Heartthrob and hung. Some fuckers get all the
luck," commented Darryl, his voice dripping with envy.
"I can't help what I am," Brad tried to explain.
"I didn't ask to be a heartthrob. That's really not
me. Look dudes, I can get you money, anything--"
"Yeah, right. As soon as you're out of here we're
history. Besides, you're making this throb," said the
black boy, taking the younger boy's hand and wrapping
his fingers about the black boy's swelling dick. "Now
you stroke me nice and easy and when it's my turn to
screw your sweet ass maybe I'll be gentle."
Brad had never held another boy's dick in his hand
before, and he had no intention of doing so now. As
he tried to pull away, the black boy's grip tightened.
He reached around and grabbed Brad by the nuts and gave
them a hard squeeze. The boys laughed as Brad yelped
in pain. "Don't mess with us dude or I'll yank off
your precious nuts with my bare hands." He gave them
another sharp squeeze for emphasis, causing Brad to cry
out again with the piercing pain. "Now you stroke my
cock nice like I told you."
Brad did as he had been told. His white fingers
contrasted sharply with the black boy's cock as he
slowly began to pump his fist up and down the hard, hot
flesh. The others ran their hands over his naked body
and through his long, light brown hair. Brad quivered
as he felt the massive, thick tube throbbing in his
hand. It had to be at least eight inches, and at least
six inches in circumference. He felt dirty holding
another boy's cock in his hand. He felt even dirtier
being fondled by the four boys. There were four pairs
of hands all over him, caressing his chest, running
along his back, massaging his ass cheeks, fondling his
balls and cock.
Darryl kissed him hotly on the mouth, this time not
to silence him. The black boy was kissing his neck.
Blaze had his lips applying suction to his side. The
fourth boy was licking the inside of this thigh. Four
pair of hands running over his body, touching him where
nobody had ever touched him before, four tongues lick-
ing, four mouths sucking. It was filthy and perverted
and as he felt their hot saliva on his skin he shud-
dered with revulsion. In a way this was what Sleepers
was supposed to portray, but nothing could really
portray the reality of being raped. The four boys
assaulting him were soon all erect. Brad was no where
near it.
Throwing a couple mattresses from the bunks onto the
floor, the boys dragged him down onto them. Brad knew
there was nothing he could do about it. His voice was
raw from calling for help, and he finally realized the
guards were not going to come. They either did not
hear, or more likely, they heard but did not care.
They especially would not care after what he had done
to them. Who knows, some might even be somewhere
watching them.
Throwing him down on his back, they raised his ass
and Darryl got on his knees before him. Brad stared
helplessly at his six-inch cock, engorged and aching
for satisfaction. How was something that size going
to fit up his asshole? God, suppose the kid had some
diseases he thought. There was not a thing he could
do about it.
Darryl bent down and spat on his asshole and roughly
worked the spit up it with his index finger. Brad
squirmed as he felt the finger tip slip up his ass, and
the others laughed and said he was such a slut he was
getting hot just with a finger. They promised him a
cock would be so much better.
Darryl spat on his own cock, sliming up the dick
head, and then he eased forward until the tip of his
knob was pressing against the tender butthole. He had
done unwilling dudes before, and he knew just how to do
it. The others helped spread apart Brad's asscheeks
until he felt like he was going to be split, and then
he felt the hot, slimy cockhead press forward. He
gasped and bit his lower lip as he felt the cockhead
stretch apart his virgin sphincter, as he felt the
teenager's hot pecker thrust forward eagerly and pene-
trate his hot dank hole. He groaned and cried out with
the pain and the strange feeling as he felt solid flesh
ease into him for the first time in his young life.
"Oh yeah, virgin boy, let's hear you cry out for
it," said Darryl. "Tell me how much you like having me
crack your cherry."
Like? How could anyone like such pain? How could
anyone like being treated like a slab of meat?
"Fucker," Darryl spat, grabbing Brad's cock and
giving it a brutal twist that made the young movie star
scream louder than any movie scream. "Now you tell me,
or you won't be able to use this thing for a month."
He kept his hands on Brad's sensitive knob.
"Pussy boy probably hasn't used it yet anyway," said
Blaze.
"Yes," Brad said quickly as he felt the hand tighten
about his cockhead. "Yes, I like you up my . . . my
body."
"You're virgin ass feels good having my cock up it,
doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Say so. Say just what I said."
"My . . . virgin ass feels good having your cock up
it."
The boys laughed as Darryl continued pushing forward
until his body was pressing against Brad's butt. He
then began to work his hips to and fro, easing his cock
in and out of his new plaything. He closed his eyes
with the pleasure of a hot ass tightly gripping his
stiff cock, with the pleasure of knowing he was crack-
ing a virgin cherry, and with the pleasure of knowing
he was fucking the dude that his girl would do anything
for just for a signed picture. Maybe he would take her
his underwear he thought with a grin.
The grin did not go unnoticed by Brad, although he
thought it was for a far different reason. He could
not believe what was happening. In Sleepers four boys
were brutalized and raped by guards. Brad had read up
on juvenile centers for his small role, and he cer-
tainly knew such things happened, between the prisoners
and the guards and between the prisoners themselves,
but who would have thought such a thing would happen to
him? God, how filthy he felt being used like this,
being used just for another's pleasure. No wonder rape
was considered such a heinous crime. He had no idea
just how violated one felt until that moment.
"Tell me you want to be fucked. Tell me you've been
aching for a man to fuck your pussy ass, and make it
real if you wanna keep your fucking nuts."
"Please, I want you to fuck me. I've been aching
all my life for a man to shove his cock up my pussy ass
and fuck me." Brad knew how to act, and he knew how to
play the game. If he cooperated, if he did what they
said, it would go easier for him. Although inwardly he
was sickened by what was happening, outwardly he played
the promiscuous fag role they wanted him to play.
Blaze was suddenly there towering over him, the
fourteen-year-old sporting a five-inch boner and a
grin. He drew Brad's head back and fed him his boy
sausage, kneeling right over his head and aiming it
down between his legs and into the teenager's mouth.
Brad gagged, more because of the idea than the taste.
"Fight this and my cock will rip out your voice
box," warned Blaze. "Then the only movies you'll be
in will be silent ones."
Brad fought back the instinct to gag. He tried not
to breathe. Under Blaze's instructions, he closed his
lips and began to suck on the hot boycock as he bobbed
his head up and down. He was not used to the position
and his neck muscles ached, but the ache was nothing
compared to the ache in his heart. Christ, he was
sucking a boy's dick, he had a filthy piss tube in his
mouth and he was sucking on it like a soda straw. He
had been raised to wash his hands every time he touched
his dick to take a piss, and now he had one in his
mouth! Tears welled up in those narrow, sexy eyes that
made teenage girls scream. A single tear trickled down
over his soft, downy cheek. The dam broken, more tears
followed. The four boys in the cell did not notice, or
did not care.
Brad might have been nauseated and humiliated by
what was happening, but the two boys whose cocks were
up his body were thoroughly enjoying what they were
doing, and both were growing hotter and panting heavier
by the second. Any sex was good, and sex with a hot,
good-looking dude like this was even better. It was
especially good since pussy boy was unwilling, and
these boys depended on dominating others to make them
feel good.
Soon Darryl thrust in deeply and let his hot cock
throb his boy juices up the virgin hole. He gasped
and groaned with the pleasure of release, doubled by
the fact he was the first to crack this cherry. Blaze
knew what was happening and let loose with a load of
his own, filling the gasping, sucking boy's mouth, and
withdrawing his boner so his white, slimy sperm oozed
out of the corners of his lips and over the boy's
smooth chin. Brad wanted to die as he felt the two
loads of boy cum squirting into him, one at each end.
He felt filthy and perverted. Nothing could be more
disgusting than what these two juvies had done to him.
The two boys got up and were immediately replaced by
the other two. The black boy's cock was even bigger
and thicker than Darryl's, and having watched the first
two boys it was already slick with pre-cum. That com-
bined with the spunk already up Brad's asshole was
enough lubricant for the black youth. He rammed his
cock in without regard for Brad's comfort, and he
paused to enjoy the feeling of this hot white boy's
hot tight ass gripping his huge prod, not because he
wanted Brad to get used to having his fat organ up his
ass.
"I want you to thank me dude. I want to hear you
thanking me for plugging your pussy with my big cock."
"Thank you," Brad whispered.
"Louder. Like when you first arrived. And say it
like you mean it dude."
"Thank you!" Brad screamed, willing to do anything
to get this over with. Besides, maybe the guards would
hear. "Thank you for plugging my pussy with your big
cock," he repeated. "Thank you for fucking my ass."
He had not been praised as an up and coming actor for
no reason.
The black boy began to fuck him, working his cock
in and out nice and slow. He wanted this white boy
to know he was being fucked by a master. By this time
Corky had lain down beside him. He told Brad to turn
his head and go down on his cock. Brad slowly took it
in his mouth, knowing he had no choice and the sooner
he did it the faster it would be over. The taste of
sweat and semen on the boy's unwashed dick almost made
him puke. Trying desperately to ignore the assault on
his taste buds, Brad slowing began to suck and work his
mouth up and down the boy's filthy, hot cock.
"Fucking way to go," said Blaze. "Knew ya was one
hot slut pussy boy. Give the dude the taste of cock
once and he can't get enough of it!"
Brad did not care if that was what the boys thought
of him. He knew it was not true. All he wanted was
to do this and get it over with. He felt a hand on his
stomach, and then sliding along to his nuts. They were
small hands, Blaze's hands. They fondled his nut sack
for a while, and picking up his still limp dink, they
slowly drew back the foreskin. He had never been
touched there by anyone, other than maybe his mother
when he was a little kid taking a bath. Brad resented
the boy's intrusion. That was the most private part
of his body, not something that just anyone could
touch, and being touched this way was not the way he
had fantasized being touched. Certainly he had day-
dreams about having sex with girls, and on more than
one occasion he had pretended it was a girl's hand
wrapped about his cock and not his own when he woke
up with a morning erection. That was only natural.
He was a red-blooded American boy. He knew there
were plenty of girls who fantasized about having sex
with him, and he was not so naive as to not know there
were a few guys also.
Feeling the act was disgusting, Brad had seldom
jerked himself off. Besides, he had felt only losers
did something like that. Although he did not find
having another boy jacking his dick stimulating
mentally, his cock responded to the physical stimu-
lation. Brad felt it growing hard in the boy's expert
fist and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
That was embarrassing, getting erect because of another
boy's hand, and it was disturbing too. This was a
filthy act that fags engage in, so why was his body
responding the way it was? Besides that, Brad knew
the boy knew he was hot, and that embarrassed him even
more. How many of his fans would kill to be able to
touch him there. How many photographers would pay
thousands of dollars for a picture of what this young
juvie was fondling?
The boy began to pump on his cock, drawing his skin
back and forth quickly with one intent in mind. As
the tight fist slid back and forth over his sensitive
knob, tingles of arousal made his dickhead itch. Having
a cock shoved up his ass and being forced to suck
another was perverted, but having someone messing with
his own pecker was the filthiest act of all. Even
though that was how he felt, his body was reacting to
the fourteen-year-old's pumping fist.
Before long he was squirming and aching for release
just like the two boys he was having sex with.
The black boy was the first to cum, filling Brad's
straining asshole with another load of hot boy cum.
Corky was next, creaming in his mouth with a hot bitter
load. He was last, his cock finally throbbing in the
stranger's hand and his hot, slimy sperm shooting out
and striking him on the chest and stomach.
Done, the boys all sat back, breathing heavily, the
room full of the odor of hot sweating balls and fresh
spunk.
The big heavy metal door squeaked open. "Brad
Renfro," called the voice.
Brad scrambled to his feet, grabbing his clothing
and quickly slipping them on. "Yeah," he called.
The officer came to the cell and opened it.
"Com'on, your bail has been posted."
"Bye Brad," called Darryl. "It was real nice having
you here."
"Yeah, real nice having you," called out the black
boy.
"Fucking right," called out Blaze.
"You bet," replied Corky softly, almost lovingly.
There was no way the officer could not know what
the boys meant, nor miss the odors of the cell. He
said nothing as Brad tucked in his shirt. Brad decided
it was best he said nothing too.
Mima didn't say a word on the way home. The clock
on the dash said 4:00 a.m. His grandmother was angry,
disappointed, and uncertain what to do about this. It
was just as well she was silent. Brad did not feel
like talking either. He had never felt so filthy in
all his life. There were times in the past where he
felt they should lock him up and throw away the key.
Now he wished they would. With the filthy taste of
cock and the bitter taste of cum in his mouth, the
feeling of thick, creamy cum leaking out of his raw,
abused hole, and his shirt and underwear sticking to
his body with his own cum, he could only think of one
thing... how badly he needed to have a shower.
Being ten IQ points below Einstein and being a hot
rising actor with a body and face that made teenage
girls scream didn't mean squat when you're locked up
in juvie with four bad dudes. That had been the
longest forty minutes he had ever spent in his short
life. A tear trickled down his cheek, and it was not
an act. He had said he wanted to get into it when he
was acting out his bit role in Sleepers. Now he had
completed a staring role, and reality was nowhere near
the fantasy at all.
- -
Disclaimer:
Brad Renfro's brief detention in the East Tennessee
juvenile detention center June 3, 1998 was reported
in numerous newspapers and magazines. As of this
time (July 3rd) there has been no arrest or further
information. This is a total work of fiction and
in no way reflects what happened in the wee hours of
June 3rd, nor is it intended to make any inferences
about Brad Renfro's drug habits or sexual experiences.
Sleepers is the trademark of Warner Bros. Studios.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
strangers. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex
with strangers!! You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 6