1.
Blackwater

Mb – cons  prost  oral  mast
Historical
Roger (24yo)  Eugene (17yo)  Elijah (10yo)

A boy, deep in the Georgia swamps, performs a quality service for those brave enough to make the journey.

Okefenokee Swamp,
Charlton County, Georgia
September, 1912

"How much?"

"For you Roger, tree dolla for a quick one… five for a de-luxe," Eugene made his pitch. "You ain't never been sucked this good, guaranteed!"

"Five dollars? Hell, there's a whore in Folkston will go all night for five dollars, plus throw in a shot of whiskey."

"But you didn't come deep into the blackwater lookin' for an old whore (he pronounce it ho-ah)… you came lookin' for a boy… my bruda Lijah, in particular."

I looked down and put my hands in my pockets, embarrassed. He spoke the truth–the boy was exactly why I came.

"Besides… the whore in Folkston can't suck a nob like Lijah can… he got a talent, that'un."

I felt a twitch in my groin as I tried to imagine this talent.

Eugene, the seventeen year-old I was talking with, was somewhat of a man… or still a boy, depending on who you asked.

My own boyhood was behind me. I was twenty-four and had initially thought I was mature and experienced compared to Eugene, but I was wrong about that. He was a natural salesman, whether it was selling catfish to Matilda's Supper House or hawking his brother's services to fellers like me who stumbled upon his wicked little trade.

His appearance was different from other folks. Most in this area were Scots. Eugene looked more Dutch, or something like that. I didn't think to ask. He was no doubt born here, but he spoke with a mixture of different accents, all rolled into one. Also, as with a few other locals, was the occasional odd phrase which, after all these generations, still had a whiff of old English.

Deeper into the blackwater, where it looked more like a jungle than a swamp, you were likely to see folks of different heritages, or even a mix–a Scot man with an Injun wife, say. A man like that was less likely to bring the wife and young'uns into town. It's safer to fit in.

Other sorts looking to lay low in these swamps might include wanted criminals, looking to avoid the law, or the now-grown children of escaped slaves, all legal and proper now, but who stayed here anyway. Only God knew why.

Where I now stood, in a dense, isolated area of Okefenokee, I was not likely to see any people at all–only various critters, some of which might consider me their supper. And yet, here stood Eugene's little house, right in the thick of it.

I'd met him in town at Riley's Grain Elevator where I worked. But it was through someone else I'd heard about his brother, a very hush-hush scrap of gossip only a handful of locals were privy to, and I'd worked up the nerve to ask about him, delicately, in hints and whispers.

Now though, standing here with him in the blackwater, listening to his pitch, it struck me as sinful and wrong–not the act itself, but the way he was describing his own brother.

"suck the bark off a tree, that boy."

Yet, his words made my body tingle, especially between my legs.

I'd heard their parents were dead, these boys. Yet they survived here without being chased out by gators, bears, snakes, or the fever. I myself lived a few miles up the channel, in a tamer, drier area, closer to other people. And even there, I had to stay watchful of snakes and other creepy-crawlies.

But here, deep in the swamp, just hunting or walking around without getting lost in the overgrowth–thick with cypress, water-oak, the endless brush, and the quiet, still, black water–was a challenge. All the fearful stories I'd heard growing up, took place in these thick swamps.

The strong odor drifting from Eugene was no doubt his own home-made mosquito liniment, which probably worked better at keeping the bloodsuckers away than my store-bought concoction. I had only rubbed a little bit onto my arms and neck. I didn't want to smell offensive. In fact, I'd taken a long hot bath before I came, just for the occasion.

We stood on the dock attached to the front of the house with a row boat tied to a post. Even though the old house was on stilts, the back end was perched above dry land. A crude old sign was propped into the window listing fresh meat for sale: Catfish, Crawfish, Frog Legs, Snapper and Catch-of-the-Day. The word Gator looked to be crossed off the menu a decade ago.

"Who is the sign for?" I nodded my head toward the window.

"Used to be a few families over yonder a ways, and a few more, further down. All gone now. Fever took some… same as our ma and sister. Me and Lijah didn't catch it. "

Before I could even ask, he answered my next question. "Our pa was shot a year before that, kilt by a drunk neighbor down the channel, hunting. That same man got et by gators, just a few months after that, drunk again. The rest of the folk skedaddled, one by one, so they not be supper for the gators and whatnot."

I lowered my head, not wanting to see if his pleasant face had faded to despair.

"Me and Lijah all that's left now, 'round here anyway. Closest neighbor is a long ways off."

Eugene earlier mentioned he sold catfish to Matilda's, in town. There were many other edibles here, though. Besides the many types of fish and fowl, there was muskrat, raccoon, possum, deer, marsh-rabbit, wild pig, and more damned squirrel than you could ever eat in a lifetime. A man didn't have to worry about starving in Okefenokee.

A sudden shriek made me jump… I almost yelped in surprise.

It wasn't a shriek, though. It was Eugene's high-pitched whistle, impressively loud. Various swamp noises stopped for a moment in eerie silence, then resumed.

After a calm minute, I had a question, but I couldn't think of a polite way to ask. "Do you… I mean, does Lijah get much business… so deep into the blackwater?"

"A couple of regulars, mostly on Saturdays, and the occasional visitor like yourself." he grinned. Then he lowered his voice. "One of those regulars… he's a nice feller, but he's an odd one. He's not workin' wid his hands like you and me… he's a high-dolla businessman, so he needs to pay a bit more." he chuckled, then made a shhh gesture with his finger.

I smiled and winked (in solidarity with all us no-count folk).

"Besides that, he brings Lijah presents… he's taken with the boy… love-sick maybe," Eugene rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't surprise me if he tried to charm the boy away… follow him out. That wont happen, though. Don't matter how much money he got."

It was about then I saw someone walking on the path, still a distance away, his image partially blocked by the trees and brush. As he got closer, I realized what I was seeing: a small boy, blond-headed, butt-naked except for boots and leather leggings that covered up to the knee, his golden-tanned skin contrasted against his sun-white mop of hair. A gunny sack was slung over his shoulder and a large hound dog followed him close behind.

"There's the little varmint, yonder," Eugene said warmly.

"That's him? That's Lijah?"

"Yep," was Eugene's only reply.

I was caught off guard. "He can't be more than… nine or ten."

"Yep, turned ten last week," Eugene answered. "I brought home sweets from Matilda's, for his birthday. Et those right up, boy howdy."

"But I heard…" I caught myself. "But I figured he was fourteen, fifteen, or some-such."

"Naw, he's a little feller, but don't let that fool ya."

Right away, I changed my mind and was working out an excuse in my head to take my leave from this place.

Eugene's previous words echoed in my head… suck the bark off a tree.

The boy flipped his hair from his eyes as he made his way from the path onto a wide wooden plank that connected the bank to the dock. "Jack, come on." He clicked his tongue a couple of times at the hound, a Bluetick.

As he stepped up from the dock to the porch, I saw how dirty he was–need a good scrubbin, I thought Eugene might say.

The lumps in the sack were moving, He'd been hunting. Now the patches of mud and dirt on his arms made more sense. He held a long stick in his other hand, sharp on one end. He was stickin' frogs, I surmised–a boyhood memory swirled around in my head. And judging from their sound in the bag, they must have been the big'uns. They don't die so quick from being stuck.

He eyed me suspiciously–I looked him up and down.

So unusual, this blond-headed boy, and handsome–beautiful, some would say–not the fancy picture-book kind, but a mussy, earthy sort of beauty. I'd once known a lovely, attractive girl who didn't know, or care, that she was attractive. This boy reminded me of that sort.

His confident expression fit well with his home-made leggings–not made from deer leather, as I'd first thought–but gator hide, tucked into his boots, obviously to protect him from the thick brush and a variety of slithering critters here in the swamp. The way he stood naked, without shame, reminded me of a young savage I'd once seen in a painted picture.

Eugene shook his head and made the tisk-tisk noise. "Not fit to look at! …did you rassel them frogs? …and why you nekid? …where's ya draws?"

"In da sack, wid da frogs," the boy answered.

I chuckled at Eugene's frog-wrestling remark.

"Roger is here to hand over a five dolla note in exchange for… your services. Go clean yourself up."

"No," I interrupted. But the longer I stared at this unusual little wild-boy, the more my heart fluttered. I'd meant to say, No, I changed my mind. Good day to you both.

But what came out of my mouth was, "No… need for all that… you're fine the way you are." And as soon as I said it, I wondered if I sounded like a smitten schoolboy who was flirtin' with a pretty girl.

We all three went into the house. The hound followed close behind.

I looked around at the dim cluttered room. Besides a couple of old stuffed chairs that I would have to think twice about sitting in, if I was offered, there laid a stack of young'uns picture books on the floor, some lanterns, several home-made fishing poles and nets, and a dismantled hunting rifle, the parts lined up in a row. I knew for a fact Eugene also carried a pistol, though I hadn't seen him flash it so far.

Lijah disappeared toward the back of the house, and a couple of minutes later, returned with a gray cloth (an old torn, adult-sized shirt) wrapped around his middle, to cover his boy-parts, no doubt. He was now without the boots, leggings, or the sack of bullfrogs. The mud was gone from his hands and arms. He then stood in front of me, looked up and held out his palm. I reached into my pocket and produced the five dollar note and placed it in his hand. He passed it to Eugene who put it in his pocket.

The older brother set a small tin cup on a table next to a corked jug. He opened it and poured liquid into the cup and handed it to his little brother. The boy tipped back the cup and swallowed down the contents. His lips formed a hooo… as if he'd drank something hot.

"Helps put him in the mood," explained Eugene. He took the cup from the boy and again poured a small amount from the jug. "Try a sup."

"Much obliged." I took the cup from Eugene and smelled the contents. Rum, if I had to guess. Sugarcane. If it's safe enough for the boy…

I tipped the cup back, swallowed it down in one gulp, and concentrated on keeping it down which was probably obvious to the brothers, judging by their smiles.

"Not quite as smooth as Matilda's whiskey," I wheezed, "but sweeter."

The boy poured more into the cup and swallowed it down, then responded with another hooo followed by a raspy "ding-dang-shit-hell…"

"This batch turned out a might strong," Eugene explained with a chuckle.

I wandered around the room for a bit, looking closer at the various odds and ends, asking Eugene "What's this?… and where'd ya get that?"

He showed me a new addition to his back porch, which was built over dry land. Off to one side sat an old tin washtub, a funnel, and a couple more objects I didn't recognize. "For makin' hooch?" I asked.

"Among udda tings." he answered, smiling politely.

A short while later, back inside, the boy was a little friendlier, less suspicious-acting and less business-like, thanks to the swallows of strong drink, I guessed. He showed me more trinkets and gadgets in his collection.

Then he pulled a book from a small stack and showed me. American School Reader was the title on the cover.

"Guess what," the boy said.

"I don't know… what?"

"Jack is in this school book," he proclaimed proudly, nodding toward the hound that lay on the rug. The dog cocked his head sideways upon hearing his name. The boy opened the book to a worn page with an illustration of a boy and a big dog. Someone, Lijah, I presumed, drew some extra spots on the dog to closer resemble his hound, Jack.

The boy covered his hand over the bottom of the page, hiding something from me. Then he read:

"Look…at Elijah and…his dog,"

(the name "Tom" was scribbled out and replaced with "Elijah")

"The dog has…a black spot…on his back."

"Do you…think…he is…a good dog?"

"Guess!" Lijah said, grinning at me.

"Well," I rubbed my chin, "he looks like a fine hound to me… I'd say,  Yes!  He is a good dog."

The boy moved his hand from the bottom, revealing the large word YES  he'd drawn on the page.

I could see he was trying not to giggle, "Funny, huh?"

"Yep, that is funny!" I chuckled. "And you're a clever young man! …I hope you'll read me a whole story, one of these days." He seemed quite different from the boy I'd met twenty-minutes earlier.

Eugene looked warmly at his little brother. "We practice reading at night, or when we get rain."

Lijah left the book on the chair, took my hand in his, and guided me into a smaller room. This room had a cot, a cluttered table next to it, a pile of old clothes, and shelves filled with more odds and ends.

Here we are, I thought, taking a deep breath. Then, to no one in particular, I said, "I feel a might nervous about this… even after the drink."

"Nervous, for what?" Eugene responded from somewhere behind me.

"Don't know. Maybe nervous the Good Lord is gonna strike me dead."

"Naw," Eugene answered. "He ain't struck me dead yet. Besides, even the Good Lord think twice about steppin' foot in the blackwater."

I thought for a moment and wondered if Eugene made use of his brother's services as well.

"Easier if you take off your boots," Eugene said.

I quickly pulled them off then turned to the older brother. "Will you be leaving us in private?"

"Nope," Eugene answered. "I look out for Lijah… not that I need to worry about you, Roger," he grinned wide. "But some fellers forget their heads and get a little too rough."

I looked down at the small boy then nodded back to Eugene, understanding what he meant.

"Besides," he grinned again, "I don't mind watchin'."

This struck me as both lewd and interesting.

The boy had a collection of large cushions and pillows on the floor next to the small night table. He stacked some of the cushions, adjusted them to the right height, this way and that, then knelt down onto them in front of me, making him instantly taller. He waited a few moments, looking up at me. I didn't catch on right away. He finally sat back on his heels, still waiting.

I should have put together how all this was supposed to go, but I was nervous and confused. I wasn't sure what the boy wanted me to do next.

He rolled his eyes with a patient smile, then pushed up onto his knees and took it upon himself to unbutton my drawers. They dropped right to the floor. I kicked them aside. My long shirt covered down to my parts, so I unbuttoned it, exposing myself to the boy. I was immediately embarrassed. I was displaying my butt to Eugene and my front-parts to a ten year-old. "I'll keep my shirt," I declared with a nervous smile.

The boy looked me over. Usually, I got hard if someone so much as smiled at me. This time was different. I was nervous.

"Had a hot bath just before I came," I declared. "Fresh as a virgin on Sunday." I suddenly realized I was rambling.

The boy brought his face closer to me, smelling me, maybe to humor me, then he squinted an exaggerated wink. Was he teasing me or was he trying to be seductive? Was this what Eugene meant, in the mood? I tried not to laugh and just grinned instead.

Finally, he reached over to the night table and picked up a mason jar. It contained a clear liquid. He opened the lid and poured a little in an old tin bowl. He put his fingers in the clear liquid then reached out with his wet glistening hand and wrapped his fingers around my limp piece of meat. I flinched and shivered at being touched. It was oil of some kind. Thick. Not cold, not warm.

His hand was now as slippery as an eel. He first massaged me then slid his closed hand up and down my flesh. At the same time, he palmed my balls, massaging them too. It felt delicious. Within just a few moments of this, I was stiff as a tree branch, bowed tight.

The feeling was wonderful as his small, slippery hand pumped me and milked me. My skin was taunt and the purple nob-head was fully exposed. His other hand held and moved my balls.

The boy leaned forward until his lips touched the tip. The hair on my neck stood up. He moved and smeared his mouth over and around it until his lips were as slippery as the swollen nob he was about to suck on.

And that's just what he did next.

His head moved forward and the nob slipped between his lips, pushing his mouth open. He engulfed the swelled purple head like a fruit, and sucked on it. Apparently, the clear oil was harmless.

I felt his tongue, warm and wet. I shivered again, marveling at the feeling, and at the sight of him. He slowly pumped my pole with his hand as he sucked.

This boy, I thought, this ten year-old… doin' this… Good Lord!… me lettin' him do this… me payin' him to do this…

His lips slid farther forward, down the pole. I shivered again and my previous thoughts and fears blew away.

In, out, in, halfway down the pole. The feeling caused my mouth to hang open, focusing on the boy's tousled head of blond hair, his sweet face, his busy little-boy hands.

In, out, in, out, the nob disappearing, then reappearing, over and over, his other hand holding and massaging my balls. He knew what he was doing, and was so good at it, this wonderful boy.

He went even further and deeper, and more of my bone vanished for a moment–so much desperate pleasure in my groin! His lips slid back out to the tip, then in again, engulfing me even further. Most of my cock slid into his mouth. I was truly amazed.

Then back out,

and in… all the way in,

until the entire length of flesh disappeared.

His glistening o-shaped lips were pressed against my groin.

I gasped.

I heard Eugene chuckle. "See? Told ya… he has a talent!"

Lijah slid out then back in–again, down to the hilt.

The older brother was no longer standing somewhere behind me, but was right next to me, watching. His own stiff bone was sticking out through the front opening of his drawers. He played with it and pumped it as he watched his little brother work on me.

This boy was somehow able to swallow the entire length of my cock down his throat. But how? I would have gagged furiously if I had tried such a thing. He didn't seem bothered at all… it looked effortless for him.

Most amazing of all was how it felt–his lips circled tight around me, his top lip pressed against my patch of hair. I felt a strong urge to grip his head in my hands and hump him, but I feared he mightn't like that, nor would Eugene.

"Jesus!" I groaned. I was almost speechless.

The boy pulled away, releasing me completely, then looked up at me and grinned, shiny oil smeared around his mouth, obviously proud that he'd caused me to take the Lord's name in vain.

"Land sakes! How do you do that?" I asked the boy. But he didn't answer. He just arched his eyebrows, playfully.

Not only how, but who had taught him this trick? His brother? Or did he figure it out on his own? As curious as I was, I didn't want to push.

Again, Lijah dipped his fingers in the bowl, then slathered more of his wonderful oil on my now-throbbing bone.

The cloth that had covered his front parts had since fallen away and now he fondled himself.

"Jack," he called and clicked his tongue a couple of times.

In response, the hound hurried to him, maneuvered his head down and licked and lapped at the boy's stiff little bone. I guessed they had done this before, judging by the hound's enthusiasm.

Eugene seemed a bit embarrassed. He chuckled and shook his head.

The boy calling his dog to lick him while he pleasured me… would not have occurred in my wildest dreams. But at the moment, all I could think was, I would have done that for him, had he asked me.

Lijah leaned forward and once again slid his lips over my nob and sucked on it for a moment, then slid his mouth down my pole,

then back out, in, out, in… and every few times, he slid all the way forward again, to the hilt, then out again. Every time he did this trick, it was almost more than I could stand–intense lust rose in me, again and again,

…as did the urge to grab the boy and ravish him. I understood even better now, Eugene's instinct to look after his little brother and not leave him alone with guests. So, I did the only thing I could do–I caressed his lovely face with my hand. "Lijah, sweet boy. What you're doin'… feels… heavenly."

Watching his lips slide on me, in and out, over and over, while from the corner of my eye, seeing Eugene stroking his own bone as he watched–and below, the hound enthusiastically licking the boy's little nob and balls as if they were sweets from Matilda's–it all struck me as dream-like, making me wonder if I might have slipped into another world.

I felt it then, building, rising from my balls.

I wasn't sure what I should do, or say, if anything.

All my muscles went tight. Against my will, an odd breathy noise moaned in my throat. I felt my entire cock expand.

The boy seemed to sense I was about to blow and, instead of pulling away, he sped up. In-out-in-out-

I thought that the swelled plum in the boy's mouth might split and burst. I felt my face and my eyes turn warm with blood.

At the last second, the boy pushed forward, again swallowing my entire length of flesh, his lips pressed tight against me, just as I shivered, shuttered and pumped out an intense load of semen.

I felt my eyes trying to roll back, but I forced myself to watch the boy.

I felt his throat moving, milking me, his muscles actually swallowing, even while his lips were pressed tight against my groin. I didn't know how Lijah was able to do this, but I'd never, ever, felt anything like it.

This one single extreme feeling lasted several moments before it subsided, all at once.

must be the deluxe part–I payed extra for it.

Finally, he pulled away, my long bone magically sliding out of his mouth. He wiped his arm across his shiny face and chin.

I hadn't noticed until now, but I was out of breath, as if I had just run a race, huffing and puffing.

With rubbery legs, I picked up my drawers and slid myself back into them. "Lijah…" I stared down at him, still out of breath, "you were… I am… that was… " I couldn't think of an adequate word. "Lijah, that was just the best!"

He smiled and stood up, "Felt good, huh?" His little bone was sticking straight out. Jack the hound backed out of the way.

"Very much", I answered. I reached down with both arms and hugged him. He hugged me in return, maybe out of politeness, maybe because of the drinks from earlier, or maybe he was just a genuinely good-natured boy. Either way, I loved hugging him and I loved everything about him.

Eugene had already buttoned up and was pushing an old rag with his foot, back and forth, mopping up a small wet spot on the floor in front of him.

He saw me looking. Our eyes met and we both laughed.

We left the small room and returned to the front of the house. Eugene offered me another sup from his jug.

"Naw, that first swallow gave me a kick. But, much obliged."

Eugene described the ingredients of his recent batch but I had to fight to pay attention.

A minute later, I looked down into the boy's eyes. "Lijah… much thanks. That was a real treat for me, sincerely. I'm so glad I came." I noticed his little bone had grown stiff again, for no apparent reason.

He smiled and gave a little nod. That was all. But it was a warm smile and I believe it was sincere.

The thought occurred to me again, I actually paid money for this. Not only for the pleasure the boy gave me, but for the friendship. I would have to work two full days to make up for the five dollars I spent.

Was it worth it?

Hell yes!

Besides, as much as I needed the money, they needed it even more.

I thought about the high-dollar businessman who was love-sick for the boy–although I didn't feel much sympathy for the man, I did understand it now. Yes, I could even imagine being in such a predicament.

I noticed the room was a bit dimmer than when I arrived. "I hope you don't think I'm rude for leaving already. I don't want to be in these swamps after dark. I know you boys are used to it, but…"

"Naw," Eugene waved it away. "It's alright. We stay close to home too, near dusk."

Then he added "Did you ever hear a gator growl at night?"

"Yep," I answered, "first time when I was about Lijah's age. Shat my drawers. Yep, I surely did!"

Lijah surprised me with a loud snorting laugh.

"I'm glad you find that's so funny," I said, giving him a little poke with my finger.

I tried not to stare at his stubbornly-hard little peg which still pointed straight out. I wondered if he would deal with that himself, later. Or maybe he'd enlist Jack's help again.

I didn't even know for sure if they would invite me back, but next time, I thought, I'll offer to assist Lijah with his stubborn little peg.

…

Eugene walked with me the quarter-mile back to the main trail which led to the stable, and my carriage, which was the farther way around, but quicker than rowing up the channel, despite the still water.

Before I had started on the path, though, I looked back and waved to Lijah who stood on the dock with Jack. He was still butt-naked but his little bone had finally gone soft.

I studied him, memorizing his handsome face, his perfectly formed young naked body, his golden skin. I tried to think if I'd ever seen a boy as beautiful as him, or even a girl, for that matter.

None came to mind.

oOo

2.
Easy Money

Mb bb – prost  inc  cons  oral  anal  mast
Recent Past
Tomas (22yo)  Romeo (12yo)  Luis (7yo) 

 Sometimes, little, uninvited guests are just too cute to turn away.

Juárez, Mexico,
1985

I stared at my favorite Polaroid of Romeo, the kid I was in love with.

Maybe I was biased, but I thought he could have been a model, or an actor. Well, he was already an actor, in a way.

Yeah, falling for a twelve year-old hustler is pretty nuts. If I could have just smacked this obsession out of my head, I would have. When God was passing out sex-drives, I would have said "No thanks!" To make matters worse, he'd given me a defective one.

My friends in school had been hot for anything with a set of tits, while I merely pretended to be.

Who was I secretly hot for?

My friends.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I was even more hot for their little brothers.

God hadn't just given me a defective libido… he'd twisted the hell out if it first.

I think it was a need to understand my crazy urges that led me to immerse myself in the study of the human animal. But, even as I earned my degree in anthropology, with a minor in the social sciences, I was no closer to understanding my own head.

I earned a consolation prize, though: I was on a career path I wouldn't trade for anything,

not even for my Romeo.

Well, probably not, anyway–depending on what day you asked me.

***

Dante growled, then barked at the sound of a light knock on the back door. I looked out the curtain to make sure it was him. I was surprised (and a little annoyed) that he wasn't alone.

I opened the door. Romeo had a small boy with him.

"Tomás… qué onda." Romeo's usual greeting.

They slipped inside and I closed the door behind them. Dante greeted Romeo with the usual panting and tail wagging. Romeo rubbed and kissed the top of Dante's furry head. The little one seemed neither surprised nor frightened by the large German Shepherd. The dog immediately greeted the boy as a non-threatening friend of Romeo's, sniffing his bare legs.

"Hello," I said to the little one. Then to Romeo, "Who is this?"

"My brother," he answered.

He looked to be a first-grader or thereabout–a smaller version of Romeo.

"And why did you bring… " I stopped and didn't finish the question.

"I had to," Romeo cut in.

I immediately felt like a prick, assuming the little one had understood me. Most of the kids in this area spoke pretty good English.

I quickly changed my demeanor. "Of course it's okay that you brought…"

"Luis," Romeo finished my sentence.

"Oh, so this is Luis! I finally get to meet you!"

"Hi," Luis responded as he looked around apprehensively, and then returned his attention to Dante.

"Does your aunt Carla know…" I didn't bother finishing that question either. Romeo gave me the eye-roll, then my mind flashed back the stories he'd told me about his home life with his aunt Carla, three cousins, and the low-life men who often stayed at their house. His expression said it all: of course she didn't know. She didn't keep track of her own children, much less her nephews.

"I figured he could play computer games, or watch TV while me and you are busy?" Romeo said in the form of a question. Upon seeing my expression, he crossed his arms, getting ready for an argument, finally adding, "It's okay, he knows all about this stuff," nodding toward little Luis.

Suspicious, I squinted and turned to his little brother. "You do?"

The little one nodded. But his blank expression didn't convince me he even knew what Romeo and I were talking about. He went back to petting Dante.

I shifted into grown-up mode. "Well, how about all three of us play some computer games and we'll put off the other business until tomorrow."

Romeo looked at me with his typical pleading expression for whenever he wanted something. "I need the money today, though."

I was about to be hustled. I just didn't know the details… yet.

"Luis, have you played computer games before?" I asked.

Luis shook his head no.

I had a new Apple IIe computer–all the rage–upgraded from my old dedicated word processor for the express purpose of running WordPerfect. I'd temporarily moved from El Paso to Juárez specifically to write about US-Mexican Border Towns, which had been the subject of my college thesis… but was now in the process of being much more.

Since I'd met Romeo, though, my new computer often ran games–Spy hunter, Choplifter, Galaxian, Frogger, Loderunner, and a couple of others. It was set up on the coffee table in front of the sofa, leaving little room for actual coffee and snacks. I liked to eat, drink and sleep near my work.

I moved to flip the on-switch but Romeo got to it first. "I can do it."

"I know you can. You understand the damned thing better than I do now."

Dante sat patiently and watched the boys.

Romeo inserted a floppy disk and typed brun loderunner, then tapped the Return key. The game whirred to life. Everything Romeo knew about computers he learned here, in this room, and he had picked it up so fast it made me want to cry that he neglected school. He sat on the couch and moved Luis in front of him to show him which keys to tap.

"I wish you'd buy a joystick," Romeo commented absently as he put Luis' little fingers on the keys, and pressed them at the appropriate times, showing Luis how to evade an enemy made of moving pixels.

"It's supposed to be for work," I complained (in a pleasant voice for little Luis' sake).

"Then why did you buy the games?"

"Well, because you…"

"…soy experta en chupar la polla?" Romeo mumbled absently.

"Don't!" I interrupted, then lowered my voice, "…talk that way in front of your brother."

"Why not?" Romeo asked without looking away from the screen. He and Luis pushed excitedly on the keys to escape their digital deaths.

"Because," I answered, still speaking politely, "and don't push the keys so hard."

"Buy a joystick, then."

I sighed, having no response.

Romeo still worked to persuade me. "What if Luis promises to just play his game, and not look over at us in the next room?"

My answer was a non-answer: another sigh. My big bed wasn't in a real bedroom, but in an adjoining room separated by just an archway. The thought of having sex in full view of Romeo's little brother… was way over the edge.

Romeo continued. "He's been with me over to Eduardo's a few times… doesn't matter."

"He has? Really? …Christ," I muttered and literally put my face into my hand. This was getting crazier by the second.

For the third time in the last minute, I heaved a sigh instead of forming words. Finally, I answered, "I'll start up the bath for you."

Romeo clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, as he did every single time.

As for the baths, there was no denying it–I was obsessive-compulsive. I required my Romeo to bathe first, always. I wasn't his only customer and I didn't want to kiss the residue of other guys. Especially not Eduardo, Romeo's last remaining customer, other than me.

Then there was my concern about AIDS, the new global scare. Could bathing wash away AIDS? I didn't know. But I hadn't heard of outbreaks in this area, so I didn't obsess about that as much.

I went into the bathroom, stuffed the rubber plug into the drain and turned on the warm water.

***

Boys-for-hire weren't necessarily thieves and liars, but my Romeo was definitely a hustler, as most people defined hustler, so you had to make sure your wallet was in your front pocket if you were going to turn your back to him.

I took every story and explanation he provided with a grain of salt.

Juárez was beginning to make a name for itself, but not in a good way. I didn't live in the worst part of town, nor in the slums, but I wasn't far from there. Romeo actually did live in the slums–not in the shacks and hovels section of town that matched Somalia in utter poverty–but in slums nonetheless, by anyone's standards.

I purposely chose to live exactly where I did, rather than a safer area. Romeo had no choice where he lived, though.

Most of the street kids in this area managed to survive their tough childhoods, and this caused me to respect them for their resourcefulness. But, really, if you knew the areas of Juárez to avoid–and this applied to all of Chihuahua really–you were relatively safe.

Still, there was a lot more crime here than in El Paso, so I avoided making myself a target. My car went from point A to point B, but it looked like a beat-up piece of shit, not worth stealing. This was intentional–same with my run-down house. I kept the curtains closed, and Dante's deadly-sounding growl made sure I got to keep my new computer and my tiny excuse for a TV.

I'd already spent a few months on the streets, learning my way around (with help from a local friend who accompanied me and kept me from getting in trouble), meeting people, and hearing their stories. I'd gathered notebooks and mini-cassettes full of info, and I was again in the writing phase of my Border Town project.

***

I stood beside the couch, watching Romeo and little Luis play Lode Runner. I was not really surprised how fast Luis caught on to the game, considering how quickly his brother had learned.

The tiny pixilated character on the screen blasted a hole in the pixel brick floor–a trap for the enemy to fall in–then he quickly made his getaway. Romeo urged him on. The sight of him helping his little brother, showing him the ropes, (or in this case, the ladders) seemed so… normal.

***

Romeo wasn't fond of his name, which was understandable. But personally, I loved it. I called him Ro most of the time, just to please him. But sadly, my motivation to please him was quite different than his motivation to please me–namely, money.

He would do anything if the price was right, including all manner of sex. And not only that, he would do it convincingly, leading me to believe, for a few minutes, that he was as much into me as I was into him.

I didn't hold it against him whenever he hustled me in some unexpected way. I couldn't stay angry at him if I tried. In fact, over the last few months, I'd grown to love him, regardless of the sex. But you wouldn't know it sometimes by our constant bickering.

But yes, I did feel guilty for having a thing with a twelve year-old. In fact, I'd changed my mind and backed out a couple of times, but Romeo hounded me until I'd given in.

One time, in the throes of indecision and frustration, I'd paid him to just sit and play computer games. I knew he needed the money to survive, which is how I justified our arrangement in my head, but my mood at the time left me wracked with guilt for taking advantage of this boy's depressing circumstance.

A while back, before I'd met Romeo, I'd paid an older boy for sex, a couple of times. He was sixteen. But unlike Romeo, he hung out in the tourist areas and had sex with complete strangers for money, which was also more dangerous. But he wore nicer clothes and sometimes got to sleep in hotel rooms. Romeo, on the other hand, just had a few regulars–a steady gig.

Like Romeo, the older boy was doing it for the money, but he wasn't so good at disguising that fact–not that I held it against him either. Many of these boys probably weren't even gay. They were just trying to survive. I didn't hold it against any of them, not even the ones who I knew would rob me blind if they had half the chance. Growing up in this environment… it was hard to blame them.

Unfortunately, a scary percentage was also addicted to drugs and needed money to feed not just their bellies, but their addictions. Romeo had managed to avoid drugs, thankfully.

My Romeo was an exceptional actor. Hustling and acting went hand-in-hand. But I studied people. I knew my relationship with this boy was lopsided. I needed him because he had manipulated me into needing him. I wasn't deluding myself. I was certain he was just acting and wasn't actually hot for me. He needed the money. I understood.

Still, it was worth every penny.

He… was worth every penny.

He provided a service and I willingly paid him for it.

For me to have this gorgeous twelve year-old boy all to myself for twenty minutes, his flawless cocoa skin, exquisitely shaped body, raven black hair, dark brown eyes and puffy lips–was a wet-dream come true. He may not have talked like an angel, but he sure looked like one.

And, for this beautiful boy to do all the same things to me that I did to him, and for him to convince me, if only for a few minutes, that he loved it as much as I did–was like a replication of heaven. And that's where angels were from, weren't they… from heaven?

In the back of my mind, I was always aware that it wasn't the real heaven, but fuck if it wasn't close!

The way he serviced me for twenty minutes, making me believe that he lusted to taste my flesh–my body, my cock, my cum–filling his mouth and dripping from his lips…

and the way he wrapped his legs around my waist and kissed me as I fucked him…

more than once, I'd thought to myself, he should be nominated for an Oscar, this kid.

I needed to keep my head in the real world, though. At my insistence, he took a bath every time he came over, which had been about once a week, but had turned into twice a week, and lately was creeping up to three.

Besides my incremental trust fund, I received another advance from the committee, which financed my project (which, by necessity, I kept secret from my little hustler), and I'd asked him to come over more often.

He had tried to barter with me to compensate him for his time in the bath tub. I didn't agree, though, not because of the money, but to keep from losing what little control I had left–not control of him, but control of my life.

If I'd had to, though, I probably would have given in and paid him for his time in the tub. I wasn't his only customer and I required this beautiful boy–whose body I had tasted every inch of–to be clean.

Until recently, he had two other regulars, besides me. Then one of those was gone, shot dead in a drug dispute. After that, his only regular customers were me and one other guy. Eduardo.

***

The eight-bit computer music was lively and fun–I watched little Luis as he proudly beat the first level.

The tub! …I'd almost forgotten. I went into the bathroom and quickly turned the faucet.

As soon as Romeo stood up and went into the bathroom, Luis stopped playing and followed him, with Dante following close behind. This struck me as cute. I felt a little bad for the kid, being in a strange place in such sordid circumstances.

Romeo quickly stripped his clothes and climbed into the tub, a sight which normally gave me a little thrill, but having his brother here changed things. Luis sat on the closed toilet lid petting Dante while his big brother was in the tub.

It didn't take him long. Five minutes. He got out of the tub, picked up his clothes and carried them near the bed, dropping them on the floor–then he took Luis back over to the computer. As always, I enjoyed seeing him walk naked across the room.

"Try Spy Hunter instead," I suggested. "He might like that one better."

Romeo put in another floppy disk and started the game. The eight-bit beep-blip version of the old Peter Gun theme-song made me both smile and wince. Within a couple of minutes, Romeo had Luis playing Spy Hunter on his own.

"Dante, stay with Luis."

Dante did.

Then to his little brother, he added, "I'll be right over there. You stay here and play, okay?"

Luis nodded and said, "Okay."

Romeo jumped onto the bed next to me. "What do you want to do?" Romeo asked me as if he was a waiter in a restaurant. The thought made me smile– the cutest little naked waiter, ever.

I whispered, "Well, I can't fuck you when your brother is right over there."

Romeo laughed. "It's okay, you can."

"No, I mean… I probably can't."

Romeo set his fancy new watch to beep in twenty minutes, then laid it next to him on the bed as if he had another customer waiting as soon as he was done with me; we both knew he didn't. I chuckled to myself at his attempt to modernize his illicit little business. Digital watches were becoming cheaper by the minute in El Paso, but on this side of the border they were still expensive enough to risk stealing, the nice ones anyway. I'd asked Romeo where he'd gotten such a fancy watch, but I already knew before I'd asked, regardless of his innocent explanation: he'd stolen it. Too bad he couldn't actually wear it outside the house. It would probably be yanked from his wrist by one of the neighborhood thugs.

Romeo's face appeared above mine. He lowered closer and kissed me, long and sensuous. His lips were soft, warm and moist, just like always. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He'd claimed a while back that I'd been the first and only one to ask him to kiss… that the other guys he serviced weren't interested in kissing. Maybe he was telling me the truth, and maybe he wasn't. It was hard to tell.

I flipped him onto his back and slid my hands down his smooth naked body, kissing his neck, his chest, his belly, then over and around his groin, inspecting the dark fuzz he'd grown just in the last couple of months. I kissed all his delicious boy-parts.

The sounds of computer keys tapping and digital blips and bleeps meant Luis was still paying attention to the game and it set my mind at ease a little. So I took the time to suck on Romeo's springy adolescent boner for a minute (which wasn't so little anymore; it had grown a half-inch longer just since I'd known him).

He finally pulled away and slowly moved south until he was down between my legs. He pulled my robe open, revealing my erection. As usual, he made an effort to act seductive, moving his face all the way down between my legs. He rubbed his chin over my sack as he looked up at me, then he slid his lips over my skin, stopping to lightly kiss each ball, still looking up at me, teasing me.

He knew what I liked because I had shown him. I'd done all the things to him that he now did to me. Well, except for the fucking. I didn't want him to fuck me. I didn't even let him touch me there. Another reason my boy knew what I liked was because sometimes, when I was feeling lusty, I hinted to do this or that… and he always did it, without hesitation.

But as far as him sucking on me so well, it helped that I had a normal-sized dick, instead of a horse dick, as Romeo had described his other remaining customer, Eduardo (although, Romeo later admitted he'd exaggerated, and now claimed Eduardo's dick was only slightly bigger than mine; I'm not sure why he felt the need to retract the horse-dick claim. It's not like I was jealous).

When I'd once asked him how he'd originally known about sex, he had told me about a time when he was little, a local guy offered to give him a triple-x sex magazine if he would let the guy suck on his little wiener. The well-used magazine had full-page glossy color photos of big-breasted women sucking on huge dicks while smiling at the camera. Some of the pages showed the women drink the white stuff that spurt out of the guys' dicks, some of it messily running down their faces and chins.

He'd said the sucking and fucking held his interest, but the close-up shots of the women's holes disgusted him.

Another thing he'd eventually learned when attempting to sell sex–women didn't want to do sexual things with little boys; not that he'd ever met, anyway. But more than a few guys did, as the porn-magazine-guy did. Yet another guy might pay a boy if he would suck the guy's dick, while another guy would pay a boy if he let him fuck his little butt.

I obviously fit into more than one category. Hearing those stories had not been great for my ego, though, leaving me feeling like just one in a long line of guys who'd used him for sex. My smarter-than-the-average-boy had picked up on my guilty feelings, and had immediately consoled me, orally.

***

Romeo suddenly made a noise to get my attention. He always wanted me to watch what he did to me, apparently proud of his skill, or maybe so I could never claim I wasn't getting my money's worth. The twelve year-old slid his tongue slowly up my dick then moved his mouth over the round knob, most of the partially-hard pole slowly disappeared as he went farther down.

I sighed deeply every single time I watched him do that. His ability for this at such a young age was… amazing.

On those times I was still not solidly erect, he could suck all of me into his mouth until his lips were pressed against my groin. If I was rock-hard, though, he couldn't quite do that little trick. I wasn't as big as Eduardo, apparently, but I wasn't tiny either.

He felt and massaged my groin and my short patch of hair, which I kept meticulously trimmed just for him. Then he moved his head up, slowly releasing my dick from his mouth, the pole sliding from his o-shaped lips. Again, I was mesmerized.

I no longer heard the tapping of the keys. Instead, I heard breathing. I turned my head and there was little Luis, standing next to the bed, watching his big brother suck on my dick. In a panic, I grabbed the edges of my robe and closed it, accidentally covering Romeo's head.

Romeo sat up. "Luis, you promised. Go play Spy Hunter like I showed you."

"I heard a noise," Luis squeaked. "I want to stay in here with you."

"You're safe," I assured him. "Anyways, Dante will protect you."

But Luis didn't budge.

"It doesn't matter." Romeo said to me. "He's seen this stuff before, at Eduardo's."

"Really?

Both boys nodded.

"Why was he with you over there?"

"Same reason as now… I needed to watch him." Then he added, "You sure you want to spend your time talking?" he pointed to his watch.

I grabbed the watch and pushed a little timer button. It made a small beep.

"Hey!" Romeo snapped up the watch and pushed the little timer button again, resuming the clock.

"Fine," I said. "But that's nuts… you actually let your little brother stand there and watch you and Eduardo?"

"No, he likes to watch us fuck."

"Bullshit," I argued. I looked at Luis, doubtful of this scenario. "Really Luis? You like to watch that guy fuck your brother?"

"No," Romeo cut in, "me and Luis."

"You and Luis… what? Who likes to watch?"

"Eduardo, I just told you."

"Wait…" At first, I didn't understand. Then it clicked. "That guy pays to watch you fuck your little brother?"

Romeo nodded matter-of-factly.

I stared at little Luis. This all came out of nowhere, but it was making sense now.

The boy was again looking back and forth between us, following along. I suddenly felt painfully self-conscious talking about the boy as though he wasn't right there, next to us.

Romeo rested his chin right on my parts. "It's fine. I don't let Eduardo fuck him. I'm the only one who can do it… right Luis?"

Luis nodded.

"A grown-up's dick is too big for him anyway… especially Eduardo's," Romeo added.

I shuddered to think of big-dick Eduardo with access to a kid as small as Luis. I'd never actually met him and I wanted to keep it that way. Romeo had told me all about Eduardo, several times, but he assured me he wouldn't tell Eduardo about me.

I rubbed my temples and mumbled to Romeo, "And Luis is okay with it? …fucking?"

"Yeah, it's easy money… right Luis?"

Luis nodded and repeated, "easy money."

I sighed and shook my head, rolling my eyes back toward Romeo.

He crossed his arms. "I don't force him to do it. And besides, I buy him stuff with the leftover money."

Luis was just pintsized, but I knew twelve year-old Romeo wasn't packing anything big enough to physically hurt Luis. What struck me on a more personal level was Romeo's description–'easy money'

That's probably how Romeo views me. I thought. I already assumed this, but the reminder made my heart sink a little.

"You're not worried something might happen to him?" I thought about how small Luis had looked next to Dante at the back door.

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

Romeo shrugged. "What's he going to do when I'm not here anymore? He'll have to get money, somehow."

I sighed, shaking my head in disapproval. "How old are you, Luis?"

Luis opened his mouth to answer but Romeo chimed in, "Nine, right Luis?"

Luis nodded.

I crossed my arms and, again, gave Romeo the evil eye.

"Almost nine," he adjusted his answer.

"Almost-eight might be closer," I responded as casually as I could (I truly didn't want to scare the kid or even make him uncomfortable). "Ro, my boy… I love ya, and I'm not trying to run your life, but Luis isn't old enough for… this kind of thing."

My face felt warm. I then realized, I was embarrassed. I was blushing from my own hypocrisy. Here I was, lecturing Romeo about…

…not now! I shooed the thought from my head.

"Climb up here Luis." Romeo coaxed his brother.

Luis climbed up the side of the bed then sat on his knees, still wearing his beaten-up kid's sport shoes, and still looking back and forth between Romeo and me.

Romeo scooted in front of his little brother, facing him, then got up onto his knees and thrust his hips toward the boy's face. "Show Thomas. You're not a baby. You know what you're doing, don't ya!"

"Yeah," Luis answered with a grin. He gripped Romeo's thighs and pulled himself forward to the boner pointed at his face. He slipped his mouth over the end and sucked on it for a moment, then slid further forward until most of the dick disappeared. Then back out, in, out, in, he began sucking off his brother in earnest. Then faster, in, out, in, out. I felt my dick get even stiffer than before and realized how revved up I was by this little display.

"See?" Romeo said, looking over to me. "And he even makes me cum, huh Luis?"

Luis nodded as he sucked.

The thought made me lust harder. Romeo didn't have much cum to offer, though. A couple of tasty watered-down squirts and that was it.

"And he likes it? …I mean, he doesn't mind?"

"He doesn't mind, do you Luis." Luis pulled away from his brother's boner and answered, "easy money."

"Did Eduardo pay to watch you two do that?"

"One time he did, but he mostly wants us to fuck."

A light clicked on in my head. Had Romeo planned all this? …bringing his brother here? …a scheme to get more money?

"See? He knows what he's doing." Romeo kissed the top of his brother's head and said, "Want to go play more Spy Hunter now?"

Luis pouted for a moment but still didn't budge. He just sat, watching us.

Romeo rolled his eyes and waved his hand, "Okay, whatever," He crawled back between my legs.

The conflict in my brain was overwhelming… right next to me sat a little boy, far too young, watching adult sex between his big brother and a guy he'd just met. On the other side was my beautiful Romeo, whom I lusted for around the clock, and who was, at this moment, holding my raging erection in his hands, and was about to suck on it. All jumbled in my head was exhilaration, embarrassment, guilt, and incredible lust.

Romeo now ignored Luis and resumed paying attention to me, looking into my eyes, resuming his seduction act. His open mouth lowered slowly down over the head of my dick. He closed his lips and sucked on it, then slid down until much of my erection disappeared into his mouth

A sudden snicker from Luis startled me. He was amused apparently, at seeing his brother make so much of my dick disappear.

"I never had an audience before," I muttered.

Romeo's attention switched back to Luis. With his lips halfway down my pole, he chuckled at his brother.

Luis put his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh.

A little chuckle escaped my lips also… against my will.

With his mouth still stuffed with my dick, he looked sideways at Luis and made goofy smile. When Romeo finally let me loose from his lips, I took my erection into my own hand and jacked it enthusiastically. Romeo messaged my balls, still making silly faces at his brother.

The beep from the watch made all three of us jump to attention. I growled in desperation. Romeo grabbed the watch, pushed the off button and dropped it on the bed and said "forget that for now." He leaned in and obscenely licked the head of my dick as I jacked it.

Almost before I realized it, I was close. I said "ohh…" and cum spurt out the tip and spilled onto my belly. Romeo slid his lips and tongue up my erection and over the knob just as it spasmed again. The contents of my balls pumped into his mouth. He swallowed, rubbing and massaging me with his hands. He looked at Luis and made an exaggerated "mm-mm" sound. Luis stared back at him, apparently amused. I doubted Romeo actually enjoyed the taste of my sperm… easy money… but he always played it up as if he did. He swallowed again and finally pulled away, still holding my dick in his hand, watching the remaining bit of pearly liquid run down the pole.

Luis pointed at the dripping juice, apparently trying to be helpful; Romeo again licked slowly up the pole and slurped on the tip until there was no more cum.

I was in my usual blissful state, not just from the wonderful feeling, but the wonderful sight of my little hustler licking my cum-coated erection.

Luis pointed to the small puddle on my belly. Romeo responded, "We'll just use this for lotion," and he swiped his hand across the white puddle and smeared it onto my balls, rubbing it in and massaging me.

Little Luis laughed. "Did it feel good?" he asked me with not a drop of sarcasm in his voice.

"Very," I answered him, smiling at his adorably blunt question. Then I asked Romeo, "Did Luis get to watch you do that for Eduardo?"

Luis shook his head no but Romeo gave me an odd look. It dawned on me… I sound jealous. "Just curious, is all." I added.

"Naa," Romeo answered. "Eduardo mostly likes fucking."

Little Luis added, "He watched me and Ro do it while he played with his wiener."

I laughed and so did Romeo.

Luis was getting more talkative. "I saw Eduardo do it to Ro, one time… you know, in his butt… I didn't like when he did that, though."

"Oh… how come?"

"'Cause he's mean." Luis answered, sounding serious again.

I turned to Romeo, wondering what Luis meant that Eduardo is mean.

"He's kinda rough sometimes," Romeo clarified, "but it's just pretend."

My face grew warm again. I felt a sudden anger in my chest, but I suppressed it. I had more questions but I didn't want to ask in front of Luis.

I picked up a dirty shirt from the end of the bed and wiped it across my belly where a translucent white puddle had been a minute earlier.

"Ro has that," Luis pointed at my wet belly, "…stuff that comes out, called cum."

"Yeah, I know," I smiled at Luis. "Cool huh?"

He nodded. "I did that too, like Ro did. I drinked his," he nodded toward his big brother. Luis opened his mouth and pointed inside, then swallowed the pretend semen. But he looked as if he couldn't decide whether he should be proud or embarrassed.

I chuckled a little. "Did it taste good?"

Luis shrugged like he couldn't decide, then answered, "Ro likes when I do it."

I turned to Romeo.

Romeo's face quickly blushed. "I don't make him!" he defended himself quickly with an embarrassed grin, "…I just ask him."

"I'll do it. Wanna see?" Luis asked me with a bashful expression, but clearly willing to show me.

"Yeah," I answered Luis, trying to sound only slightly interested. "I want to see."

"You don't have to," Romeo responded to his brother but looked at me as he said it, "See?" …apparently wanting to be clear he didn't force or trick his brother to do anything.

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

Romeo grabbed his watch, about to push the buttons… but then looked up at me and saw my expression. He did another eye-roll, then set the watch back down. He crawled over on his knees until he was in front of his little brother again.

Luis announced, "Okay, I'm going to do it, watch…" and bent forward to his big brother's partially hard dick and sucked it into his mouth. Like before, he moved his head in and out.

"Wait," Romeo stopped Luis, "that'll take forever." Luis let go.

I was a little disappointed. I wouldn't have minded if it took a while.

Romeo wrapped his hand around his four-inch erection and started jacking it.

Luis sat back on his heels and watched. "He can make it come out faster when he does that," Luis explained to me.

A few moments later, Romeo stood up on his feet, standing up on the bed, jacking quickly. Luis got up onto his knees, taller, in front of his brother's dick, watching his flying hand. I moved closer and watched.

It didn't take him long. He croaked to Luis, "Here it comes… "

Luis moved in close. I moved closer also. Romeo slid his knob inside his little brother's open mouth. A short jet of clear liquid squirt out, like a ten-cent squirt gun, coating Luis' little tongue. The erection twitched and throbbed then several more little clear jets squirt out. Then he slid the knob over Luis' tongue as the rest dribbled out like thin syrup.

Luis finally closed his lips around his brother's spent boner, sucking and swallowing. Then he let go and sat back onto his heels, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He turned to me and said, "See?"

"Wow!" I couldn't help responding to the kid even though I felt weird for encouraging him.

Luis smiled proudly. Then he said, "Are we done? I want you guys to play Spy Hunter with me."

Romeo literally jumped off the bed and ran naked over to the computer. Luis and Dante ran behind.

My head was still reeling from their x-rated little display.

Romeo, upon noticing my absence, walked back over to the bed, took my hand and pulled me along.

"Spy Hunter is for only one player," I reminded him.

"We'll take turns," he answered, sounding more grown-up than me. It occurred to me that I loved Romeo even more than the day before.

***

I didn't expect to see my boy for a couple days. But the next day, he came over again, and little Luis was with him. He didn't come for business, though. He came because Luis was already addicted to Spy Hunter, just that quick, and he had pestered his big brother to bring him over.

I said, "I should be writing, but, well, I look at you, and I think… how can I refuse that face?" I lightly pinched his cheek, teasing my handsome boy. He waved me away, red-faced and grinning.

I planned on being alone, writing all day. Instead, we took turns playing computer games. When Luis wasn't taking his turn, he was chasing Dante through the house. Not that I minded. It reminded me of home, when I was little.

I put a VHS tape of The Black Stallion into the (stolen) VCR. Luis was instantly drawn to the TV, like a magnet.

I turned up the volume a little too loud, purposely, and waited until Luis was completely engrossed in the movie. I then quietly asked Romeo, point-blank, if he'd brought Luis over in hopes of making more money.

He tried not to act embarrassed–to show his cards–and he was trying to avoid answering my question.

Over the next half-hour, I was able to drag more information from him. Romeo switched back to the Galaxian game which he could play pretty well even when simultaneously talking with me. He didn't even have to give it his full attention.

The longer I knew Romeo, the better I had a sense of when I was hearing bullshit. However, I think this was mostly the truth:

***

He lived with his Aunt Carla before reuniting with his little brother. When Luis came to stay, Carla was under the assumption she would receive extra financial assistance for his care.

Long story short, she never got the money, and she threatened to pawn Luis off onto someone else. So Romeo promised that he himself would give her a small amount each week.

And that's what he did with much of the money he made from his little business.

Lately, though, when he left Luis at home, no one watched him or even looked out for him, and their neighborhood was becoming more violent than ever.

Some of his Aunt Carla's friends were almost as bad as the rough people in the neighborhood.

Romeo said one of Carla's buddies shoved Luis off the front steps, then closed and locked the door, locking Luis out of the house until Romeo came back and found his little brother outside, at night, alone and afraid. Romeo had been so enraged, he set out to buy (or steal) a gun, but changed his mind after he'd cooled off.

Now that Romeo only had two remaining sources for money (Eduardo and me) he started taking Luis with him to Eduardo's, at Eduardo's request. Even though the guy was kind of a dick, Romeo thought he knew him well enough that he didn't fear for Luis' safety. But not just that… the few times he got Luis in on the act with Eduardo, he'd been able to barter for more money.

But… this arrangement had quickly began to unravel, because of Eduardo's drinking. When he was drunk, he got too rough with Romeo, and the guy chose this particular time to start drinking more, (when it rains, it pours) causing Romeo more grief. Now, the boy dreaded every single time he was about to hook up with the guy.

A week earlier, Eduardo scared Luis and made him cry–he had ordered the little boy out of the room while he finished aggressively fucking Romeo.

So Romeo had a dilemma: let his little brother fend for himself at home, or take a chance at Eduardo's.

So yes, my boy was trying to hustle me for more money, so that he could ditch Eduardo, but still make enough for Luis and him to survive.

As much as I would have loved to just let them stay with me, I couldn't let that happen. My time in Mexico was limited. Romeo knew I'd be gone in a few months.

As of that moment, though, I was determined. If I could help them find a more stable living situation, here in Juárez–I absolutely would.

***

"Do you want to spend the night?"

"And Luis?"

"Of course, both of you," I pinched his knee and added, "not move in… but just a night or two, like, a couple of times a week, if you want. We can use the time to brainstorm… come up with a plan."

"What about Eduardo?"

"Fuck Eduardo," I answered.

Romeo raised an eyebrow.

"I meant, forget Eduardo."

"Does that mean you're going to give me more money?"

"Yes."

I couldn't tell what Romeo was thinking. All he said was "Okay."

"Ro?"

"Yeah?"

"I care what happens to you… and Luis."

Romeo looked away from the game, and away from me–the Galaxian ship was instantly swarmed by the enemy, and obliterated.

"I know," was all he said.

oOo

3.
Little Colombian Bean

Mb –  prost  cons  oral  mast
Contemporary
Alex (23yo)  Cam (10yo)  Little Bean (6yo)

Some Colombian beans are small and expensive, yet worth every peso! 

Present Day

[ENGLISH TRANSLATION]

Bogotá, Colombia

The kid I'm scoping, the one pretending he doesn't notice me…

he's just a small thing.

Small enough to make me uncomfortable.

He's maybe ten years old, if I had to guess. Wide brown eyes, short black hair and caramel complexion. Typical Colombian street kid.

Dirt-poor, obviously, if he lives on this side of town.

And cute. So damned cute.

I suspect he knows what I'm doing here. I see his subtle moves when he knows I'm looking. His quick glances. Slight smile. The way he gets rid of his friend with just a sideways nod of his head.

Amazing that road robbers will assume I'm as penniless as them, but this boy can spot an impostor (me) just that quick.

He's so young, though. Too young.

I admit to being kind of immature. Okay, maybe ridiculously immature is a better description. But I'm not a kid anymore. Finished university two years ago.

The boy looks in the other direction for a moment. I notice the shape of his butt.

Okay dammit, now I feel like a fuckin' predator. Christ! Is that what I am? A sense of shame pushes to the surface and I feel my face grow warm. But already, I'm driving it back down. Now further down, until it's buried under my aches and desires.

I argue with myself: I wouldn't even hurt someone's feelings, much less force myself on anyone–and least of all, a little kid.

Still, I've wanted to do this since I was a teen–come to this part of the city to hook up with one of these street boys. But, the thought that some of these kids are desperate enough to

…have sex with strangers for money

angers me,

repulses me,

and thrills me.

Who's in charge here… the angel on my right shoulder or the devil on my left?

I can't shake him out of my head. He stars in my daydreams–not this boy, but another street kid I saw a year earlier while passing through. This kid here, though, he reminds me of the other one. Just as cute too, in his own way.

It's just dawned on me… I could easily get lost in this neighborhood. I barely know where I am.

Even here, though–in this strange part of town, on this littered unpaved street, in just one of the many slum districts of Bogotá, where poverty and crime are parts of everyday life, and some of the structures remind me of a house of cards, on the very edge of catastrophe–I manage, without incident, to buy a coffee from an old black man pushing a cart. He's sporting an over-sized lump in his pocket in the shape of a pistol.

The normality of buying a coffee has calmed my nerves a bit. Now I'm sitting on a cracked cement step of a boarded-up market, sipping from my styrofoam cup. I'm wearing typical clothes for this area to make myself less of a mark. The boy is standing ten or fifteen meters away, pretending not to watch me. I think he knows, or at least suspects that I'm here for him, or someone like him.

Kids his age don't display themselves like prostitutes. The older ones do. The younger ones may not even go looking for it. I can't say for sure, but I suspect they engage when they run across it, or maybe when it runs across them.

My boy pulls a phone from his back pocket, taps and swipes a few times, then appears to be holding a conversation. It seems unlikely that a street kid in this area can afford a phone, much less a smart phone. I decide he's putting on an act for my benefit, to make it seem he is not alone and helpless or without friends for protection. I'm just guessing, but it sort of makes sense.

Come to think of it, I'm doing a lot of guessing. In this part of town, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. No, not at all!

'Chill,' I remind myself. If I always listened to my paranoia, I'd be safer, yeah, but I might never leave my apartment.

I pull out my pack of smokes, deciding to put on an act of my own. A pack of Pielrojas. Even this brand is pricey these days. All the brands are. Cigarettes aren't as prevalent lately on my side of town. But here, they're still part of the culture. I've yet to see anyone in this neighborhood puff on a vape pen, but I've seen a few guys roll their own cigarettes. Boys too.

I wait until I see my boy watching me again, then I pop a cigarette into my mouth. I pat my shirt pockets like I'm looking for a lighter. I don't actually carry a lighter–I only bought the smokes because I thought they might come in handy.

"Shit," I exaggerate the word, still putting on my show. I stand up and pat my pants pockets, looking for my nonexistent lighter.

I see the boy gesturing at me. He arches his eyebrows and smirks a little as he pulls a lighter from his pocket and flicks it.

I feel a little flame spark to life in my groin.

His expression says, You need one of these, duh! I get the feeling my smirking boy is a little bit facetious–a smarty-pants–but a friendly smarty-pants.

I flash a smirk of my own and note my surroundings, then head in his direction. No one is paying attention to me, other than my boy.

***

Less than ten minutes later, I'm in a dim room in a derelict house with the boy, Cam, short for Camilo, no doubt (if that's his real name). I tell him my name is Alex (although it isn't). He pinches out the cigarette he hustled from me and slides the remaining part into his pocket for later.

Now I'm standing in front of him as he is perched atop a badly-worn stuffed ottoman, crouched on his knees–his warm fingers are wrapped around my already-throbbing erection

…sliding. In and out, in and out. His skin is soft and warm and my lust for him feels achy and urgent.

He's going to suck my dick for ten minutes. That's the deal. He wears a scratched-up watch on his wrist, to keep track, no doubt. Disney is printed under a graphic of Minnie Mouse. Promotional watch maybe.

I want to kiss him first, this cute boy. As much as I'm desperate for him to suck on me, I want to first feel his sweet kiss on my lips.

He raises up as I lean my face toward his. I kiss him softly, sweetly. He reciprocates. It's immediately obvious that he's kissed before. I want so much to squeeze my hand into his pants and feel all his boy-parts, but there's no time for that.

His touch makes me fantasize for a moment that I already love him, and that he loves me, and that he's not doing this merely because I paid him,

half of the money up front

…but because he desires to kiss me and feel my aching erection.

It's not true, of course. I just wish it was. It's just a fantasy. My make-believe. He's not feeling my dick because he wants me. I think he's checking me out first–looking me over. Making sure I'm not a stinky pig or the walking-dead. We are in the slums, after all.

The boy must see by now that I'm not dirty or disgusting. I'm clean. Smelling extra-good, in fact–regardless of my second-hand street clothes. Third or forth-hand is probably more accurate.

Still, I'm glad he is picky, for his sake.

Me? I'm as clean as sunshine. I'm not smelly, old, or wrinkled. I'm twenty-four. Not fat. The hair around my dick is trimmed short. I take care of myself.

Admittedly, I'm not wealthy, just middle-class–landing a decent-paying job right out of university was pure luck. Okay, yes, I'm a bit of a head-case, but I always had above average grades in school. And now, I'm a fit, reasonably good-looking, employed young man who smells good enough to suck on,

if I pay for it,

in advance.

And at this moment, my dick is so hard, I'm afraid it's going to snap off if my boy bends it too far.

Now I pull out my own phone, the real thing, and zoom in on Cam's busy hands. I assure him, "Don't worry, I won't share it or upload it to a porn site. It's just for me to look at, for later… because you're such a handsome little guy, I don't want to forget you."

as if I could ever forget this boy

He smiles at the "handsome" part and he seems only mildly concerned about the video. He asks me, "You don't live around here, do you?"

"Nope." I assure him while watching through the little phone-screen.

"It's okay then." He shrugs.

I don't see what living around here has to do with anything but I won't complicate things by asking. But I do ask him: "Do you go to school?" I'm wasting my short few minutes with my boy, but I'm curious.

"Sometimes," he answers.

"Good." I wink. But I add, "You should go everyday, though. If you study hard, you'll be able to get a good job someday, move to Rosales, live in a class apartment, drive a nice car. You and your family… or whoever."

Cam smirks again and rolls his eyes. I imagine he's thinking, 'whatever, mister.'

"For real," I add, looking around at the decrepit surroundings. "You're a handsome guy… that's one step ahead already. Now add school and even university on top of that, and you're good to go. Seriously, you could do it."

Then my boy looks up at me curiously, and smiles. But this time, it's a sincere smile.

He's handsome, this kid. I almost think I could spend my ten minutes just admiring his lovely little face. Almost.

I stop interrupting him. He moves his head back down in front of my erection. I'm grateful I don't have to coax him, on top of paying him. I don't think I could stand to lose anymore self-esteem today.

and what about the boy's self-esteem? …he's the one sucking dick to survive.

I tell my brain to shut the fuck up already.

Cam leans his face forward–the moment I've dreamed about–his lips brush against the swollen purple knob. I shiver at the touch, and the sight of him. Then, at last, he slides his soft lips over me and the swollen knob of my dick disappears. His sweet mouth is warm and wet.

I feel my knees turn weak for a second. I shiver again as the hair on my neck stand up. As wonderful as I imagined! The way my flesh feels in his mouth, the sight of it–this beautiful young boy sucking me. My fantasy come true!

In and out, in and out, his lips slide halfway down the pole and back out, again and again–his slippery, luscious, warm, wet mouth is all I can see. My body wants to push deeper but I restrain myself. I gently brush my hand against his face. "Cam," I breathe heavily, "that feels good." I frame the luscious shot on the phone screen and watch.

in and out, in and out, in and out…

A quiet groan escapes my throat.

He pulls away and looks up at me. "Tell me before you cum, okay?"

For a moment, I don't know how to answer. Had I really assumed he wouldn't mind if I filled his mouth with my cum?–that he'd just keep sucking on my dick as my balls emptied a load?

In my jack-off fantasies, yes, that's always what happens. But not in real life, apparently. And especially not my considerable and messy load of cum.

Even way back at age fourteen when me and my friend Matias jacked-off together–his eyes grew wide when he saw the amount of clear-white semen that spurt out of me, several times, then flow heavily for several more seconds. Unlike me, Matias only produced about enough to fill a thimble.

"Okay," I answer Cam, nodding. I wonder if my face shows my disappointment.

The boy quickly promises, "When you're going to cum, I'll do it this way." He pumps me sensuously a few times with his hand, showing me how pleasurable he can jack me off. He smiles seductively, then slides his other hand under my balls and massages them as he strokes me, maybe hoping I won't press the issue.

His soft hand on my balls makes the hair on my arms and neck stand up. I smile and nod to him.

He once again slips his sweet boy-lips around my dick.

in and out, in and out… The feeling is more wonderful with each slide of his mouth.

"What if I pay you double?" I whisper.

(in my mind, I'm kicking myself)

Cam stops again, looking up, his eyes wide, "you mean… to cum in my mouth?" He points at his throat while making a sad puppy-dog face. "I can't, though. It will make me sick."

"Okay… it's okay… we don't have to do that," I assure him, whispering loudly. I brush my hand down his face again. "This is fine what you're doing, Cam. It feels awesome!"

But he doesn't resume sucking me. He stops still, looking up at me, like he is considering. "Double?" he mouths the word. The boy moves up onto his knees, balancing on top of the old ottoman. "My brother… he will… he doesn't mind about that… the cum."

"Your brother? …what? …he'll do what?"

"My brother can do that," he says again. "So, instead of paying me double, you can pay him the same as you pay me. Right? He'll do it."

I'm not positive we're talking about the same thing.

"He… really? He will? Where is…"

Cam whispers, "He does that all the time for our friend… the guy we stay with."

"He does?"

Cam nods with that same smirk from earlier.

"So…" I squint my eyes shut, "your brother is at home or…?"

"I'll go get him. It's not far," the boy answers enthusiastically.

I feel paranoia creeping up my back. "I have a bad feeling about this, Cam," I chuckle nervously. "You're not going to get your friend to beat my ass and rob me, are you?" I close my pants and snap them.

"No no no!" Cam shushes me, taking my hand.

I continue, "He wouldn't get much money out of me. I only have enough for…"

"No, I promise," the boy interrupts, tracing the shape of the cross on his chest. "And then you'll have two… me and my brother!" he smiles wide like a salesman. "You'll pay my brother the same as me, right? …and he'll do that… what you like."

I blink, nodding.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back. Five minutes." He unlocks the door and quickly disappears.

***

It's closer to ten minutes and I have a bad feeling.

This is fucking dangerous! Leave!

Just when I'm telling myself 'one more minute, then I'm bailing,' the door opens and Cam hurries into the room, followed by a smaller kid,

much smaller.

"…come on, Little Bean"

I feel my eyes grow wide. "This is your brother?"

I assumed he meant his older brother.

Cam nods. "This is Faber."

My heart sinks. This whole thing is spiraling out of control.

this little kid? absolutely not!

I heave a sigh. "So… uh, Bean?"

"Oh, we just call him that sometimes," Cam explains.

Faber the Little Bean is barefoot, dusty shirt and shorts that look like they've never seen a laundromat, not even once–a miniature version of Cam, same haircut, and just as cute. He's holding another obviously-dead phone. The screen is not only cracked, but is missing a piece.

I'm still telling myself, no-no-no-no… no!

Faber nods towards his phone, whispering to his big brother, "It's James Rodriguez." Then into the phone, he whines, "Yes, James Rodriguez… I do want to play football with you, but I'm busy today… do you know Tony Stark? …uh-huh. He's coming to my house later, yeah."

The strong smell of mint or menthol wafts from the boy's mouth as he talks–reminds me of Vicks VapoRub. Ah, childhood memories. I see the lump in his cheek and realize he is sucking on a throat lozenge, or something like that.

I nudge Cam and whisper. "Your brother is too young!"

"Don't worry. He's done it lots of times, right Little Bean?" Big brother Cam uses his thumb to make an exaggerated sucking-dick gesture, in and out.

"Hey!" Faber scolds. "Not supposed to tell about that!"

"Shhh! He's going to pay you, though, remember?"

The Little Bean cocks his head. "Oh yeah." Then he stands on his tip-toes for no apparent reason, then back down, then up, then down, then he talks more into his phone, then he mumbles some unrecognizable comment to no one in particular. Then he says to me, "You're tall!"

"Shhh!" Cam shushes his little brother again.

It occurs to me that the kid is a bit hyperactive. I mumble to Cam, "He's not old enough for… this."

"Yes I am," Faber interrupts. "He tucks his broken phone under his chin then displays five fingers plus one extra finger on his other hand.

"See?" Cam flashes his handsome smile at me then hops on top of the ottoman again and crouches down onto his knees.

With my palm on my forehead, I mumble, "Holy Mother…"

I consider calling the whole thing off–pay the boys for their time and trouble, then make a run for it–but Cam reaches forward and unsnaps my pants. "Faber," he whispers, "See? He's okay… and he's nice."

I can't help myself–Cam's compliment causes me to flash my own big silly smile and Faber snorts a laugh, moving in closer, standing next to the ottoman to watch his brother.

Cam again has my already-hard dick in his hand, sliding it like before. I'm embarrassed about suddenly exposing myself to the Little Bean, but I get over it quick enough. He and Cam probably have more experience than I'll ever have.

Faber reaches forward and pokes the side of my dick with his finger, looks up at me and smirks, just like his brother's smirk.

"Do I pass?" I chuckle.

Little Bean laughs, but I doubt he got the joke.

Cam glances at his watch then leans his head forward and once more slides his mouth over the end of my dick. He sucks on it for a few seconds, then slides in and out, in and out…

Again, I aim the phone, recording the image of the sweet ten-year-old face with my erection sliding in and out of his mouth.

Faber doesn't look shocked or surprised. He cranes his head over to see my phone's screen and the image of his big brother sucking my dick. He seems more interested in the phone itself than in the close-up image of his brother performing an x-rated act on an adult.

Cam finally stops and pulls away. To his little brother, he says, "Alex is going to pay you half, up front… right Alex?"

I nod and pull out the bills and hand them to Faber. He claps his hands happily, then snatches the money. He examines the bills closely, turns them over, looks again, turns them over, looks again, then stuffs them into his front pocket. He puts his dead phone to his ear. "I'll call back later, okay?" then returns the phone to his back pocket.

Cam is still holding my dick in his hand.

Faber asks, "We supposed to take turns?"

"Yeah, but…" Cam whispers in his little bother's ear. "pss-pssst… something-something… pssst… remember?"

Faber nods and leans forward, his little face brushes past his brother's, but at the last second, he stops and pulls the menthol lozenge from his mouth and stuffs it in his other pocket, and then without another word, slides his little mouth over my swelled purple knob and sucks on it. I almost gasp from the suddenness of it all.

"Holy Mother, forgive me," I pray again, under my breath.

He does it all the time for our friend, Cam confided earlier.

yes, apparently.

Lucky friend.

Right away, I see this is different, and I feel this is different. Different than his big brother. The Little Bean sucks and slurps on my knob, but he does it so non-nonchalantly–like slurping on a pop-sickle in front of the TV.

His slippery little tongue and lips are warm and velvety, sliding and sucking. No shyness, no awkwardness. I'm amazed that this appears so normal to him. I can easily picture him slurping down ice cream instead of my throbbing dick head.

Does this little boy actually lust to suck on my dick? No, it's more like… a pastime, or a habit–doesn't mind doing it, either. Then I think: I wonder if the guy he usually does this for would be jealous, if he saw?

Out of nowhere, I feel a stab of guilt. Such a small innocent boy. It's maddening, what I feel: shame -verses- intense lust.

Then it's gone again, the shame–obliterated by the excruciating pleasure of Little Bean's sweet, wet, warm mouth. "Mmm, God, kid," I whisper dreamily. I brush my hand down his little face.

Cam is still pumping my pole but Faber takes it, wraps his fingers around it and starts pumping while he sucks on my knob.

For a second, I feel his teeth scrape me. "Dont bite me, Little Bean," I tease him.

He giggles with my dick-head stuffed in his mouth.

Cam says, "He knows what he's doing. You're an expert, right Faber!"

"mmfyeah," Faber answers proudly, his pursed lips look swelled and puckered in an exaggerated kiss, like he's working on an over-sized tootsie-roll pop, his little tongue rolling, wrapping and sliding around the dripping knob. The boy's slobber escapes his lips and drips to his chin. He doesn't seem to notice or care.

Cam puts his hand over Faber's hand and moves it faster in and out while Faber sucks, maybe to remind little brother they don't want to be here all day.

all day… fuhh… I imagine the brothers sucking on me all day…

Faber pulls away. Cam wipes off his little brother's drool with his hand, then moves in and slides his mouth over my wet erection again, halfway down the poll. In and out, in and out…

I shiver and reach for Faber's little hand and place it on my balls. He instantly cups them and starts messaging me while watching the phone screen. He's done this before too, apparently–massaged someone's balls. There's little doubt.

The way big brother is pumping my dick with his mouth, halfway down the pole, in, out, in, out–he seems determined to bring me to the edge.

And soon enough, I feel it. Already. Getting closer. In the distance. Coming.

I zoom in, the screen is a close up of Cam's lips, sliding in, out, in, out,

"Going to cum," I whisper. "Almost… I'm going to…"

Cam lets go of me and pushes the Little Bean's head forward. He immediately slides his velvety wet lips over my knob and resumes his slurping and sucking. His little hands wrap around my pole and pump it, in out, in out…

I groan under my breath, , "Faber… ohh…" I feel my hips try to buck forward but I resist. Instead, I slide my hand down the Little Bean's sweet face as his mouth works and sucks and slurps on the swelled knob. This time, I move Cam's hands onto my balls. He kneads and massages them, just as Faber did.

"Ohh," I shiver and I feel my entire dick throb and expand

…and then fill the Little Bean's sweet mouth with cum.

He doesn't stop or slow or even make a face. He works his mouth and pumps me with his hands.

"Faber, fuhhh…" I croon, trying to hold the phone steady on his face. I see his throat swallow and I feel another spasm. He swallows again, still working his mouth, his tongue. I see the white juice all around the edges of his lips.

"Taste good?" older brother nudges him.

Faber snorts a laugh and pearly-white juice leaks from his lips and runs down his chin. He opens his cum-filled mouth long enough to say "lots of…" but another pulse of sperm flows over his open lips and more runs down his chin, down my pole and over his hands, then he quickly closes his mouth around the knob and swallows again.

I half expect him to let go and run away. Not this kid. He continues to suck and slurp on the remainder of the flowing cum, now pumping slower with his hands. I see his throat swallow again one last time.

Finally, the little boy lets go, looks up at me with cum hanging from his mouth and chin… and burps.

Cam laughs. I laugh. And the Little Bean laughs. He reaches into his pocket with his wet hand then pops the menthol candy back into his mouth.

"That was a lot!" Faber exclaims while he wipes the back of his arm across his face, which doesn't help much.

"Sorry," I mumble, bashfully. I see a reasonably clean armchair-cover draped over the back of a torn stuffed chair. Cam sees what I'm going for and grabs it first then wipes it across his little brothers mouth and chin.

The Little Bean now has the same lozenge lump in his cheek as when he arrived. It occurs to me then: the extra-strength menthol lozenge covers up taste, pretty much all tastes, as I recall. Maybe that's why he doesn't mind.

"Cam… Faber… that was awesome! I loved it! It felt great." On my knees, I hug them both at the same time. They politely hug me in return.

Faber answers in his street lingo, "No problem, man," as he pulls the phone from his back pocket, puts it to his ear, then says to an imaginary person on the other end, "Yeah, he's going to pay me the rest now."

I chuckle and pull the bills from my pocket, but first, I hand over the remainder that I owe Cam, plus some extra. He sees that it's more than the agreed upon price and looks up at me, double-checking my expression, maybe to see if I'm making a mistake. I smile sincerely, just as I feel in my heart, at this moment.

Then I give the same amount to little Faber. Again, he claps as he reaches for the money. He looks the bills over carefully, as before, flipping them over every which way, then stuffs them in his pocket.

"You're a nice kid, Cam. I hope you stay in school. Your brother too."

Cam smiles politely and says, "See ya, Alex," and heads for the door. Faber follows.

"Wait, you guys!"

The boys pause at the door.

"What if I find myself in the neighborhood again… can I… will you… keep an eye out for me?"

Cam nods, looking interested, "Okay."

"Okay," Faber repeats after his brother.

Impulsively, I add "Or… what if I paid you enough to spend a whole hour with me… in a vacation cabin? Would you want to do that?"

aw, damn, there goes some bucks.

"Vacation cabin?"

I nod. "They're rentals… single cabins, for privacy, fifteen or twenty minutes from here, by car. They're not much to look at, but better than…" I look around the room where we are standing. "Anyway, after we… um, after we're done there, we can play some video games, or whatever… if you want."

Cam seems to be processing in his head. "For an hour?" He silently counts his fingers, doing the math.

"Me too?"

I nod again, smiling at Faber.

He adds, "And more money?"

I nod.

"Okay," the boys answer in unison.

"When?" Cam asks.

I shrug. "When do you want to?"

"Tomorrow!" little Faber volunteers.

I chuckle. But then I think: 'Oh! tomorrow is Sunday. No work. And assuming a cabin is available…' I arch my eyebrows playfully at the boys and flash them an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

oOo

The End