Gay Erotic Stories

The Boy Was Foine

By Chris Carr Copyright ¨ 1998

Just when he was about to give up hope, the bumper-to-bumper traffic crept forward. Los Angeles, thought Mark Chapman, Traffic capital of the world. Growing frustrated with the snail pace traffic Mark started looking for the first exit available. The hopelessly snarled traffic, however, presented Mark with no outlet. Damn! He thought, I could make the whole trip from my home in Brentwood to the Downtown area faster than I could make this next off-ramp! Finally, he edged forward far enough to get around an old beat up Dodge Colt and exit the freeway. Now what? He thought. Spying a neighborhood hamburger stand he decided to kill the time getting some grub

Seeing the worn burger place reminded him of his old neighborhood. A patio served as the only eating area, so Mark ordered and retired to one of the tables to wait. As he waited he began taking in the sights. There were fine ass boyz everywhere. To bad he couldn't just take one of them home, he thought. Looking at all these cuties he remembered an old idea he used to have, back when he was broke. Before he'd become a successful businessman, he would drive around the old hood, drooling over these honeys wishing he had the money to proposition one of them. His cruising was interrupted by loud music pouring from an approaching car. Turning to look Mark's heart nearly stopped when he saw the kid jumping out the car. This boy was beyond fine, the nigga was foine!

"A'ight nigga, ketch you lata," slamming the door. Strutting up to the stand he barked, "Yeah, lemme have a cheeseburger, fries and a coke," adding "And make the fries fresh, man. Don't be makin dat shit with day old oil!"

Mark couldn't take his eyes off of him. His skin was silky smooth and tan colored, but it was hard to tell what nationality he was. He appeared to be a mix of Hispanic and Black. Drinking in his beauty, Mark drooled over this shirtless cutie. His physique was that of a man's, trapped in a boy's body. Suckable nipples sat atop a budding, boyish-round chest, dropping down to a mild six-pack. An angelic face, hardened by years of fending for himself on the streets, with cherry red lips that just begged to be kissed. Immediately Mark knew he had to have this cutie and began seeking an opportune moment to approach him. To his surprise, the teen practically created the opportunity plopping down at a table next to him with his order. As they sat munching on their burger and fries Mark looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear. Gathering his courage he candidly asked, "You wanna make some money?" The boy looked up a little dumbfounded.

"Say what?" he asked.

Undaunted, Mark continued. "I said, would you care to make some money?"

A little perturbed the teen asked, "What kind of money you talking 'bout, man?"

Take your time, Mark thought, and you might just reel this big fish in. "Well let's start out with $100."

The kid's eyes widened as he turned to look at Mark with gathering interest. "$100!" he said, grinning smugly around a mouth full of hamburger. "No shit? Yeah, but what fo?"

"To spend the evening with me"

"Spend the evening? Doing what?"

"Making $100. But that's just my opening offer. You could stand to make that and even twice as much, depending on how well you do."

"How well I do? How well I do what?"

"What do you care, when we talking well over $200 for one night"

The kid stared at Mark, trying to comprehend this odd proposition. "Motha fuck…," he started, startled, "You goin pay me $200 to go with you? What for?"

"Don't worry about it. You ain't scared to go with me, are you?"

"Hell, no, that ain't the problem. I'm just trying to figure 'da fuck you paying me $200 fo" he shrugged.

"Just believe me, you'll enjoy yourself. And I'm talking $200, plus!" Mark said, playing the big fish on the line.

The kid sat silent for a few minutes considering the proposition. "You got that kind of money?" he insisted.

"And more. But you gotta play by the rules. We both not happy with this and the deal is off, a'ight?" The kid looked Mark up and down sizing him up. With a little nod of his head he said, "A'ight."

The teen sat quietly slouched, legs splayed open, his face obstinate. His head bobbed to the sounds pumping from the radio. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, and Mark could hardly keep from snatching flashes at his luscious chest. A baseball cap, turned backwards, sat on his, apparently, naturally curly hair. His only other apparel consisted of a pair of striped denim overalls whose straps he left dangling loose from his waist, white socks, and some fairly new looking sneaks. Wasting little time Mark negotiated the Beamer through the city traffic with ease, opting to take the streets to his Brentwood home rather than the freeway.

"Name's Mark, b, what's your?"

"DeRon, man, but everybody calls me Poet."

"Poet, huh? Why Poet?"

"Cuz, I got mad skills with the rap, and poetry" he answered, flexing his chest.

"Yeah? I'll have ta check that out some time," Mark said, nodding his head. They retreated into the agonizing silence again. After a while Mark asked, "So where you live?"

"Up the street from that burger joint" he snorted.

"A'ight, " Mark replied, allowing the silence to engulf them again… "Who you stay with?" Mark asked, the silence killing him.

"My moms and my kid brother," the kid shot back. Hoping to relax the kid, Mark volunteered that he was raised not too far from that neighborhood.

"Yeah? Where you stay now?" Poet asked, a little less guarded.

"Brentwood."

"Damn" the kid replied amazed

"So how old are you?"

"I'm 18, man. Why all the questions, man?"

"Ain't nothin, li'l man. I just asked" Mark replied, defensive.

Fleeing into their silence again they rode along until the kid suddenly blurted, "You a fag, huh?"

The kid's blunt manner shocked him. Not wanting to alarm him he finally said, "Would that be a problem if I was?"

The kid sat watching him for a couple of minutes trying to decide. "So that's what this is all about, huh?" Mark chose to let him simmer. Let's see what he does, he concluded. "You a fag, man" the kid concluded, disdain in his voice. "So what you want me to do, man?"

Damn, Mark thought. If only I was closer to my house! Hoping to put the kid off a little longer he said, "Like I said. For $200 plus, why should you care?" The kid grew silent again, and Mark took that as a shaky sign of consent. He floored the Beamer gunning for his home.

When Mark reached his house he parked in his huge garage and, with Poet in tow, entered his fabulous home. Viewing the house, Poet gaped in awe. "All this is yours?"

"All this is mine"

"Damn, nigga, I guess you got it like that."

"Follow me," he told the kid.

Upon entering the foyer, Mark's 6'2", 228 pound, combination bodyguard-butler greeted them. "Good evening Mr. Chapman" he said with a deep voice. "Take your coat?"

"Thank you Albert" Mark said.

" 'Da fuck was that?" Poet exclaimed after Albert had left.

"That's Albert. He kinda keeps everything safe around here."

"Ya, damn straight!" Poet agreed.

"Let's get settled in," Mark offered. When Albert returned Mark instructed him that he would need to make accommodations for his guest.

"Alright" Albert said and led them to the upstairs rooms.

"Albert will see to you getting situated while I tend to some other things." Mark told Poet and left them. Giving them a few minutes, Mark went to his room. After a sufficient wait he buzzed the intercom for Albert. Albert answered him on the intercom in the boy's room. "Albert, when you have a minute, I wanna see you?"

"Of course" he replied. When the huge man appeared at his door, Mark looked up from his computer and asked him what the boy was doing. "He's gawking at his accommodations "

"Good. Keep an eye on him and ask him to take a shower. Tell him there's money in it for him if he's squeaky clean."

"Alright" Albert said turning to leave.

"Oh, and Albert, if he's got the kind of feet I like tell him he gets $50 extra, and $50 more if I like his dick. And leave the COM open so I can hear what you say," Mark added.

"Alright."

As he sat anxiously waiting, he finally heard Albert turn on the COM and say, " Mr. Chapman, the blue towels or the red?" What an excellent ruse to throw the kid off of their little scheme, Mark thought. "The red ones" he answered. He sat back in his chair looking forward to what he'd hoped to hear.

"These are your towels. Mr. Chapman would like for you to take a shower. He also told me to let you know that there was extra money in it for you if you get extra clean." In a suspect voice he heard the kid say, "Extra clean?"

"Yes, extra clean." There was a pause, and Mark imagined the kid taking all this in like he'd done before. He silently dared the kid to cross yet one more line, hoping he wouldn't back out now. "Yeah, whatever," he heard, finally. Hearing the rustling of clothes, Mark's dick began to get hard as he imagined the boy removing his clothes.

"Ain't you goin' to leave?" he heard the kid ask.

"Actually, I need to get your clothes, I'm sure you won't need them anymore.

"Won't be needing them anymore? Why not, he want me to parade around naked?"

"No. He'll probably buy you a whole new outfit. So could you just hand me those things you're wearing and I'll dispose of them."

"What 'cha mean, dispose of them. You goin’ throw them away?"

"You don't want me to?"

"Naw, not yet"

"Alright. We'll pack them away for you." Again Mark heard the ruffling of clothes and then he heard Albert say, "You just got an extra $50 for those good looking feet of yours." Mark was beside himself with desire upon hearing that.

"My feet! Da fuck? You like my feet?" he heard the kid asked indignantly.

"Not me. Mr. Chapman."

"Some freaky shit" Mark heard, as the sound of more ruffling of clothes came through the COM. Then he heard Albert say, "I suppose you'll get a big bonus for that…"

That's when the kid said, "Man listen, I ain't no faggot! I don't know what the fuck you guys is thinkin’, but I ain't no God Damn faggot!"

Fearing he'd loose the kid at this point Mark beeped the intercom in the room. "Yes?" Albert answered.

"Is everything alright?"

"Naw, man!" the kid shouted into the intercom. "What the fuck is goin’ on here?" "Sounds like $300, so far, to me"

There was a pause so long; Mark feared it was all over. In time, he heard the water in the shower being turned on and Albert saying, "He's gone in the shower, sir." Mark breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair.

Back in the room Albert stuck his head into the bathroom where the boy stood naked, showering. "When you finish, exit the bathroom through that door" he said pointing to the door opposite them.

"Yeah." Poet answered a little sullen. "What I'm s'pose to wear?"

"This," Albert said handing him a red silk shirt and white briefs.

Poet exited the bathroom's bright light into a darkened room. As he squinted trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, the lights in the bathroom begin darkening, until it was only a diffused light. Mark sat in a chair far enough into the darkened room not to be seen yet. He wore a red silk bathrobe, fresh from his own shower. The sight of the bronze Adonis standing in the bathroom door's light nearly caused him to faint. The shower had turned his curly hair into beautiful ringlets, favoring his angelic features. His gorgeous, tan, hairless body was dripping wet from the shower, and scantily clad by the red towel. Mark's took it all in, savoring his pert red nipples, his taut stomach and his lightly fleeced legs, droplets of water running down them and pooling at his feet. Albert was right. The boy's big pink-soled feet were to his liking right down to their long suckable toes. He watched as he finished drying off still searching the room trying to make out the shapes. Mark didn't move until he'd put on the briefs and shirt. Unable to contain himself any longer, he finally got up from the chair and approached the kid. He stood facing him feasting on the utter beauty of his body.

"You lookin’ gooood," he whispered. Poet observed him warily, Mark's attention making him nervous. "Let's see what we got," Mark said reaching out to unbutton his shirt. Poet stood silent as Mark worked on the buttons. Once the buttons were undone the shirt fell open to uncover his cherry red nipples. Mark, resolving that it was now or never, bent down and took one of them into his mouth. The smell of his freshly scrubbed body was intoxicating as he enclosed the nipple in his warm mouth. He swathed his tongue over the pert nipple raking it erect.

"Damn!" Poet murmured stunned by the sheer pleasure the man's mouth was generating on his raw nipple. To his dismay, there was a stir in his groin. Frightened by the implications of what that meant, he jerked away. Calmly Mark asked him, "What's wrong? You're not backing out now, are you?"

"I don't know," he said, visibly shaken. "I ain't no fag, man. I don't play like that!"

"Nobody's calling you a fag, b," Mark said softly, calmly.

"It's just…Man, dudes don't s'pose to be doing this shit with each, man" the teen explained, perplexed.

"Alright, listen. I don't want to make you do something you don't want to do. You want to call it quits?"

The kid looked down at his feet and pondered this question. After a few minutes he said, "I leave now, and I don't get nothin’, huh?"

"That was the agreement, li'l man" Mark replied.

"So why you like doing this, man?"

"Because it feels good," Mark answered patiently "You'll see, if you just relax, man." Poet looked down at his feet again, silent. "Didn't it feel good to you?" Mark asked. Poet said nothing.

Mark dared to continue, taking his silence, once again, to mean consent. He returned to the boy's nipple and began encircling the little red fireball with his tongue. Again the sensation was incredible to him and again it frightened him. He pulled away gently this time, drawing his erect nipple from the man's mouth. Mark had had enough experience with skittish virgins to know different, however. His head was saying no, but his body was saying yes.

"You gots somethin to drink?" the kid said, stalling.

Mark walked over to the bar and retrieved a bottle of Gin. Mixing it with a little 7-UP, he handed it to him. Poet took it reluctantly and sipped from it. After a few minutes Mark could tell he had mellowed. Mark ventured to try sucking the boy's pert nipples again. This time he lapped at them, tracing all over his pecs, and nipples. Fearing he would get aroused again, Poet fought to will his body not to respond. He lay back on his elbows and continued to sip from his drink hoping this would distract him. But as Mark licked on his exposed nipples he couldn't stop the stirring in his groin.

Mark was enraptured as he tongued over the boy's nipples. He worked on them feverishly knowing that if he kept it up his body would win out. As he sucked, licked and lapped at his nipple he soon got the desired result, a firm bulge in his briefs. Seeing that his dick had responded, Mark began licking down his chest and over his stomach. Poet groaned ever so slightly. His body was betraying him. His dick was hard, and this was feeling good.

He sat up suddenly as he felt Mark licking toward his groin. He watched him as his tongue licked at the top hairs of his pubic region. Then Mark licked further down lapping his tongue over the briefs encasing his sensitive erect boy organ. His licking eventually wet the briefs revealing the imprint of his brick hard dick. Poet knew he shouldn't be liking this, but his dick had a mind of it's own. He resolved to never let any of his friends know he had let a fag lick all on his body. He had only came with the guy because the money offered was too hard to resist. Twice he had thought of bailing because he'd had his suspicion it would lead to this, but the $200 was too tempting to turn down. Now this punk was slobbering all over his dick. Damn! If Jimmy and the boys ever found this out, he'd be dead! Get yo' fuckin dick to go down!, he screamed to himself.

Just then, however, Mark pulled his briefs back to expose his throbbing boy rod. It sprang from his groin, standing at attention. This kid was begging to be serviced. Mark obliged him and slid his hot wet mouth over his aching hard cock. "Shit!" Poet exclaimed.

Of all the times he'd fucked around with women they'd never sucked his dick like this. The feel of Mark's wet mouth enveloping his dick was indescribable. He tried not to react to the man's slurping mouth, but every time his mouth slipped down over it, his dick throbbed harder. The man had a mouth like a velvet vacuum. His body went into autopilot. Soon, every time Mark would go down his stiff shaft, Poet found it would thrust up to meet him drawing him closer to his imminent orgasm. Then, just when he thought he was about to let loose, the man pulled off his dick and began traveling down his legs, licking as he went. He couldn't stop watching as this freak traveled down his legs. What was this asshole doing?

Mark had reached his feet now. Poet watched, mesmerized as Mark lifted his foot to his mouth. This mutha fucka’s crazy, Poet thought, but couldn't bring himself to make the man stop. Mark's kinky actions was getting him very hot. Never in all his 18 years had anyone paid this much attention to him, and especially not sexually. His sexual experiences had been, to say the least, disappointing. Routinely humping the girl fast and hard he'd rush to a quick nutt, essentially, using her pussy, to jack off. But this guy was almost worshipping his body, and making him like it!

Mark was licking the soft pink sole of the boy's foot, now. Poet toes curled and wiggled thrilled to this new sensation. It should have been tickling but it was instead making him even hotter. Mark continued his foot service up the teen's velvet soft sole to his flawless toes. He licked up the bottom of the big toe and looked up into the Poet's big brown eyes. So that's what Arnold Schwartinigga meant about a bonus for his feet, Poet thought. This geek likes to suck on toes. And was damn good at it, too!

Mark was laving every one of his long slender toes, sucking them into his mouth. Poet watched entranced. Moving to the other foot, he repeated his freaky act. Poet would have never imagined feet could be this sexual, until tonight. He heard himself gasp softly as Mark ran his tongue over his big feet. This bitch was turning him out, and making him like it!, he thought, his dick dripping precum on his stomach.

Mark started licking back up his long soft legs toward his swollen shaft. But he faked him out again and went down on his dangling balls. He found himself hissing as Mark lapped at his tender orbs, eventually, engulfing them in his sensuous mouth. Then the man lifted his legs and spread him open wide. 'Oh, Oh!' Poet thought, he's goin for the ass! Just as I thought, this faggot thinks he's goin to fuck my ass. Hell no! He protested, but then Mark surprised him again. He stuck out his tongue and licked around the little space of skin that was between his balls and his ass, and God damn if that didn't feel jood! Finding his asshole Mark started running his hot wet tongue over it. Poet couldn't believe it, here he was lying on his back, his legs spread to the ends of the earth with a faggot lapping at his ass, and he was liking it!

"Ssss…, Aahh!" he hissed, his ass begging for more. He could feel an itch starting way up his asshole aching for the man's tongue to caress it. And Mark didn't disappoint him either. He felt his tongue wiggling up his ass, touching where no one had ever been before. His legs started spreading wider, involuntarily, trying to work more of the man's tongue further up his ass. What the fuck am I doing? Poet thought. I'm letting this fag punk me, he reasoned.

Just as he was about to protest, Mark started slipping a finger up his tunnel as he licked up to his balls. By the time Poet had reached down to remove his finger, he had reached the pulsing knob of his hard dick. Slipping his silky mouth back over his dick, he pumped up and down the boy's dick like a vise. Poet could hardly keep up with all the stimuli coming at him, now. His dick was afire with the pleasure Mark was giving it, while, against his better judgment, a finger was sliding up his tight boy ass.

His toes dug into the bed sheets as his legs fell open, spreading wide. Rising up on his elbows Poet looked through his splayed legs trying to assimilate all this 'maricon' was doing to him. He knew he should stop him, but he couldn't. His mouth fell open in a silent scream as Mark's mouth glided up and down his aching dick.

Mark looked up into his eyes as he sucked on his engorged 8 inches. He knew he had him in the palm of his hand. Momentarily, he let his hot dick fall from his mouth and licked one of his nipples. Poet threw his head back and moaned. Mark looked deep into his eyes and said, "You look so hot right now." Then he sucked on the his nipple again and, still holding him with his eyes, taunted him, whispering, "It's good, ain't it?" . Poet wouldn't say anything, but Mark was unperturbed. Having found the boy's bulging prostate, deep up his ass, he turned his hand palm up. Gently he sliced his finger deep up his asshole, dragging it's length over his raw prostate gland.

"Mmmmmm" Poet moaned, his eyes rolling up in his head.

"I said, it's good, ain't it" Mark repeated. Poet sighed as his ass was stroked, his dick throbbing extra hard.

"Why don't you suck my dick again, Holmes?" he pleaded, grasping his dripping column and pointing it toward Mark. Mark gambled on a bigger risk and, leaning forward, kissed him on the lips as he continued to stroke his prostate. Poet was overwhelmed with input at this point and couldn't muster the strength to protest. Against his will he found himself kissing the man back. Their tongues met and he was kissing this man like he was the last broad on earth. He heard himself whimper as Mark continued to shove his finger up his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

"Com'on Holmes, suck my dick for me, okay?" Poet begged, as the kiss broke.

"Spread your legs wider" Mark insisted.

His dick was aching to feel Mark's mouth on it agai--so bad, he complied and spread his legs. Mark kissed him again, and Poet kissed back like some dime house whore. Mark went down to his dick again. As he ran his hot mouth up and down his dick, he kept fingering that hot spot deep in the boy's ass. Poet surrendered to Mark's servicing and began to lewdly hump his ass up on the thrusting finger driving it deeper up his hole. His dick was real close now. It was being rammed all the way to the back of the man's throat with every downward thrust. Then it happened. His body surrendered and he could feel his hot juice flowing up his ramming dick. The ecstatic pleasure of his ensuing orgasm caused the boy to cry out.

"Ahhhhhhh!!" he howled.

Mark switched to sliding his tongue over the underside of the boy's pulsing ramrod allowing him to watch the boy cream himself. Poet could take it no longer and his body doubled over in convulsions as his dick began spurting burst after burst of boy juice all over his body. It shot on his face, his chest, his stomach; one shot even leaped over his shoulder and hit the headboard.

"Aaaaaah!' Poet groaned as his dick rocketed off, his stomach muscles quavering, while his face was scrunched up in a grimace of ecstasy. His legs were splayed open as his hungry asshole pulsated around Mark's finger. His boy balls were pulled tight and his dick was a virtual spear it was so hard. Mark reveled in watching his dick leap and deliver its load. And he simply loved the way the boy's luscious toes were digging into the covers, searching for purchase. After long last the boy's powerful orgasm subsided, and Mark inched his finger out of the his still clutching hole. Poet lay back exhausted.

"Not bad, huh?" Mark said.

Poet said nothing. He was trying to get his mind around what had just happened. If you dig this story, check out Chris Carr’s Studies In Brown at http://www.studiesinbrown.com/ A unique collection of stories for and about people of color-- From hot urban tales to the sensitive, you'll find it all!