Summer Shorts 3 Read online

  “Bogdon,” Jimmy said, looking up. “Free my hands.” Bogdon tilted his magazine back to see the boy’s face. He grinned. He turned the magazine over to show Jimmy the picture he was looking at: a woman on her knees with her hands bound behind her back, her mouth on the cock of a man standing in front of her.

  Bogdon chuckled. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so,” and resumed his reading. Jimmy licked his lips. Bogdon was being cruel, but Jimmy couldn’t worry about that now. He went into problem solving mode. Any apprehension he had felt about sucking cock was gone, replaced by the logistical challenges and limitations before him. While Jimmy was an inexperienced cocksucker, Bogdon was already pretty hard. And he’d been stiff for a while. Jimmy felt that his best shot was to make his mouth as wet as possible, and then use his slippery mouth to get in as many strokes as he could.

  Jimmy scooped Bogdon’s cock back into his mouth. He nuzzled it, letting his mouth fill with saliva. He started to rock his head. Soon he could hear wet noises and felt his own spit dribbling down his chin. Occasionally Jimmy would stop sucking, open his mouth, and slurp the spit that was leaking out of his mouth. He did this to keep his mouth well-lubricated: he was a boy-powered, cocksucking machine. The muscles in his neck began to ache. Jimmy mewled and moaned with Bogdon’s cock in his mouth. At first, Jimmy made these noises because his own cock was hard, and it was rubbing against his underwear, and it made him feel so wonderful that he just had to moan. But then Jimmy eventually realized that Bogdon was enjoying his moans, too. Whether it was the sound of Jimmy moaning that turned on Bogdon, or the vibrations from Jimmy’s mouth on Bogdon’s hard cock, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he needed to continue moaning, as much for Bogdon’s pleasure as for his own. Jimmy put all he had into sucking the fat cock in his mouth.

  Bogdon sighed. He tossed away his magazine and raised his shirt. He grabbed his cock in his hand, and put the other hand on the top of Jimmy’s head. Bogdon positioned himself so that only the head of his cock was in Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy felt relieved and stopped bobbing his head. Jimmy could feel the saliva running freely down his chin.

  “Okay,” Bogdon said. “Okay” Jimmy rested. His jaw hurt, his neck was sore. He wondered how much longer he could have sustained the pace that he had set for himself. He felt so grateful to let it all go. To simply sit in the chair and let Bogdon take over. “Okay,” Bogdon said again, in the clipped cadence of a man working himself towards orgasm, fucking Jimmy’s mouth with short, quick thrusts. Jimmy knew what was coming: Bogdon would soon fill his mouth with warm cum. He had known that was coming all along, but had forced the thought to the back of his mind. Everything had happened so fast. There was no time to negotiate. And now his choice seemed gone: if Jimmy pulled his head back now, Bogdon might not finish before his partner arrived. And besides the timing, there was also no guarantee that Bogdon would throw his effort into the mix were Jimmy to stop once more. Jimmy didn’t think he had it in him to bring Bogdon to the brink again, solo. No, it was far too risky for Jimmy to ask for a halt. Jimmy thought it might be best to just let things run their course. To take whatever the old man had to give. To receive his load.

  While Jimmy secretly relished the idea of being forced to swallow, he also felt a little terrified. He allowed himself to whimper. Jimmy looked up at Bogdon with big brown moist eyes, and Bogdon had to have known what was in the boy’s heart. Perhaps it was even this very knowledge that sent Bogdon over the edge.

  “Swallow,” Bogdon said softly, his voice thick with lust. Jimmy felt the warm cum at the back of his throat. And swallow he did. He gulped, in fact, to prevent himself from choking. And he twisted in his seat, all the better to feel the erection in his pants, rubbing against his thighs. “Swallow it all, little dove,” Bogdon said. “Swallow it all for me.” Jimmy flexed his buttocks, pressing his cock into his jeans. He swallowed numerous times, as many as it took, until Bogdon finally stopped shooting into Jimmy’s mouth. When Bogdon’s orgasm finished, he sighed heavily, then softly chuckled. He reassembled his clothes and looked to the monitors to assess his remaining time.

  And Jimmy sat quietly, still swallowing; only this time it was his own saliva he accepted, a bid to temper the salty aftertaste in his mouth. When Bogdon had finished with his clothing, he leaned against the table. He put both his hands in his lap. He sighed.

  “Stand,” he said, addressing the boy. Jimmy did as he was told, his head hanging. “Will you unlock me?” he asked. He did not look up.

  “Soon,” Bogdon said. “Come first.” Bogdon waved him forward with small finger motions. Jimmy wasn’t sure what Bogdon wanted. The space was small. The place where he was standing was only a pace or two away from Bogdon. “Come,” Bogdon said. Jimmy took a step forward.

  Bogdon reached out and grabbed the belt buckle of Jimmy’s pants. He gently tugged the boy forward, until Jimmy had to straddle Bogdon’s thigh. Jimmy looked up, his eyes wet.

  “I’m not gay,” Jimmy hissed. Bogdon did not laugh. He simply took Jimmy’s hips in his hands and pulled the boy against his own sturdy thigh. Jimmy could feel his hard cock pressed against the man’s warm leg. Jimmy squirmed in protest, but it did little good to win his release: his hands were still locked behind his back and Bogdon held him in his powerful arms.

  “Come,” Bogdon whispered. “Come for me.” Jimmy finally realized Bogdon wanted him to come. To shoot his cum into his pants. That was okay with Jimmy. He wanted to come. Badly. He wanted to stain his underwear and his pants. His protestations turned into awkward attempts to rub himself against Bogdon. But Jimmy found his position awkward. The only way that he could get his hips to move in the way he needed was to let himself go. To let the man before him take his full body weight. Jimmy knew there was very little time left. After a few unsuccessful bids to start a rhythm on his feet, he finally did it. He let himself go. He fell into Bogdon’s big tattooed arms.

  And the big man held Jimmy as he squirmed, and his orgasm came quickly. Bogdon laughed as he felt the boy’s body stiffen. Jimmy nuzzled his face into Bogdon’s neck. Jimmy made a satisfied groan and came in his pants, feeling the warm semen spread against his own groin and leg. Bogdon held Jimmy for what felt to Jimmy like an eternity, a blissful infinity. Jimmy could smell the old man’s cologne. He let it fill his head.

  Finally Bogdon pulled the boy to his feet. He stood behind Jimmy, turning him toward the door. Bogdon reached into his pants pocket and then whispered into Jimmy’s ear: “Listen to me: Do not. Hit me.” Jimmy hadn’t expected that warning. He craned his neck.

  Bogdon unlocked his wrists. When his hands were free, Jimmy rubbed them.

  “Go,” Bogdon said. “Hurry. Partner coming.” Jimmy opened the door. He stood on the threshold for a moment. His pants were wet. The cum was cooling and he felt vaguely embarrassed to wear a huge stain of cum out into the mall. He looked back into the little room, where Bogdon still stood; and something swelled in Jimmy’s chest. He opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. Instead, he raced the few steps between him and Bogdon. The big man flinched in surprise. He leaned back with his eyebrows high. Throwing his arms around Bogdon’s neck, Jimmy let his body follow, pressing himself up against the big man’s sturdy frame. Jimmy held Bogdon for a moment, then Jimmy stepped back and let his hands come down over Bogdon’s stubbly cheeks.

  With his hands framing Bogdon’s face, Jimmy stood on tiptoe and kissed Bogdon full on the mouth. Jimmy pressed his tongue against Bogdon’s lips, but the old man wouldn’t kiss Jimmy back that way, whether it was because the kiss was too much of a surprise, or because Bogdon didn’t kiss men with an open mouth, Jimmy couldn’t say for sure.

  Jimmy laughed. Didn’t matter. He raced from the little room and then down the dimly lit hall that was for employees only and finally out into Murphy Mart. He passed the security guard he’d seen in the monitor, and Jimmy waved his fingers and just kept right on running. He ran until he reached the other side of the mall and then he stoppe
d running and started laughing. Jimmy briefly considered stealing a pair of jeans to replace his cum-stained pants. But he knew he had to stay out of trouble. He knew he had to keep his nose clean. But now he also knew that sometimes a little bit of risk could be a good thing.

  Sometimes a little jeopardy was exactly what a boy needed most.

  A Good Girl is an Easy Sacrifice

  by Huck Pilgrim

  Johnny Manley watched Dominique Thomas make her way up the stairwell. Fresh from Barbados, she had creamy dark skin and a slim athletic build. She’d told Johnny she was nineteen, but he didn’t believe her.

  “The one on the right,” Johnny murmured as they hit the final landing.

  Johnny kept his voice low, so as not to wake the old lady on three. Dominique looked over her shoulder and smiled. If she was nineteen, then Johnny was ten years her senior. He hoped that a younger girl, a teenager, might help him solve his problem.

  She looked nervous.

  Dominique was a good girl and Johnny knew just how to treat her. That was a big part of his problem. He’d spent most of the day wooing her. He’d taken the crosstown train to her home in the projects earlier that afternoon. Met with her sisters, a flock of thick-armed women, all living in the same apartment, wearing the same blue hospital work uniforms. They’d cooed over Johnny and made a big fuss. Fed him some dark stew with simmering knobs of bone, a light skim of grease.

  Johnny loved the good girls.

  When he fell in love, he liked to give his girl all that he had. He gave his paycheck first. Soon after came his undying attention, and then an open heart followed. Johnny gave it all. He couldn’t help himself. He held nothing back.

  Johnny once gave a girl his ‘74 blue Chevy Nova. He’d just made the final payment.

  Johnny knew he had a problem.

  Dominique entered the apartment. She passed through the tiny kitchen and into the living room. Johnny flicked on the overhead. Save for a single recliner pushed against the wall, the living room was empty. Four walls of nothing. Two bare windows overlooked the deserted street below. Dominique laughed, a lyrical, happy sound.

  She went on laughing a little too long and Johnny looked at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Dominique said, her voice contrite.

  “I’m just starting out,” Johnny said. He was surprised by the pang of shame he felt at her amusement. Johnny flipped off the overhead and two pale rectangles of streetlight reached across the floor.

  “Want something to drink?” he asked. There was only water.

  He handed Dominique a glass of tap water and then sat in the recliner. Dominique stood in front of him holding her glass, looking uncomfortable. She was an attractive girl in modest clothes: A button down cotton blouse, a light knit sweater. Designer jeans. She’d straightened her coarse hair, teased it into a giant pillow framing her face. She looked like a fresh daisy.

  She didn’t know where to sit. He invited her into his lap with a wave of his hand. Careful not to spill her water, she tucked herself into the chair, her hip on his groin. She didn’t weigh much. He could smell the coconut scented conditioner she used in her hair.

  Johnny had met her at Bronx Community College. Night classes. He liked her because she was from a small town, on a small island, somewhere in the middle of the sea. Dominique missed everything about Barbados, even the strict father she had left behind there. When they talked, Johnny could hear the longing in her voice. He enjoyed telling her about Carnal, the small town where he grew up. Where his own large family still lived. When she would ask why he’d come all alone to New York, he always changed the subject.

  He liked her. But he didn’t want to tell her about his problem. Johnny wanted to love her, but not too much. He had no idea what a healthy relationship with her might look like.

  Leaning over the arm of the chair, he set his water glass on the floor. When he came back up, he kissed her gently on the mouth. Put his fingers on her chin. Tilted her head up.

  She sighed. Kissed him back.

  He took her glass and set it next to his on the floor. He put one of his hands on her thigh, the other on the small of her back. They necked, his tongue deep in her mouth. She eagerly returned his kisses. But when he slipped one of his hands between her legs, she locked her ankles together and squeezed with all her might. She wouldn’t let him pet her breasts either.

  Johnny took it all in stride. It wasn’t sex he was after.

  “Don’t you like me?” he asked. He kept his voice low, just a murmur. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s totally cool. I completely understand.”

  “Wait, whoa—” Dominique said. “Hold on.”

  She shook her head. Bit her lip.

  Dominique wanted her green card. Many of her friends had simply married to get one. But Dominique was a good girl. She could only marry a man she truly liked.

  “I do like you,” she said.

  Johnny considered this for a minute. Dominique put her head on his strong chest, cuddled closer to him. Johnny idly stroked her back.

  “Well, then, what’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “What do you mean,” she wanted to know. She raised her head, met his gaze. Her voice was low, wavering. She looked confused.

  “It’s like a wrestling match,” he said.

  Dominique swallowed. She looked shocked to hear him describe their behavior this way. She didn’t respond.

  He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Let’s get up,” he said. Dominique looked crestfallen.

  She obediently stood and Johnny followed her to his feet. “Come on,” Johnny said. He took her hand and headed into the bedroom. When she saw where he was headed, she stopped short. “We’ll be more comfortable on the bed,” he said.

  Her eyes went wide, and he almost laughed.

  “We don’t have to do anything,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything. A distant car alarm wailed somewhere in the night.

  “The chair is killing me,” he said.

  She laughed softly. The chair was uncomfortable.

  He dropped her hand and headed into the bedroom alone. Flopping onto the bed, Johnny kicked off his shoes, then crawled to a sit against the back wall.

  She followed him inside. Sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight.

  She wouldn’t look at him. Her hands were in her lap.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Can’t what?” he asked, genuinely unsure what she meant.

  She looked at him. Running her hand across the bedspread, she stretched her body out next to him on the bed. Propping herself on her elbow, she looked around the bare room.

  “It’s a bad time for me,” she said, emphasizing the words bad and time. She was looking away from him, though there was nothing else in the room to see.

  She shrugged. “I just—” She turned to look at him.

  “I can’t.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was telling him for a minute and then he got it. “Menstruation?” He laughed, genuinely amused. “We could take a dip in the red river,” he said.

  She snorted, aghast, and then laughed herself. Her face flushed. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she said.

  “I have plenty of towels,” he added hopefully.

  He liked the music of her laughter.

  “What should we do?” he asked. He reached out to her. His fingers danced along the buttons of her blouse. She allowed it. Soon he was tracing her small breasts through the fabric of her top. He kissed her softly and opened her top button. Dominique lay still, hardly breathing, as he unfastened a few more buttons on her shirt.

  “What about oral sex,” he murmured.

  His finger drew an invisible line from the wire in the base of her bra to her bellybutton. Her body stiffened. She licked her lips. For a beat no one said anything, and then he looked her pointedly in the eye.

  “I already told you,” she said. Her voice was a hoarse whisper now. “I can’t.”

  “No, I mea
n me,” he said.

  He grinned. His cock twitched in his pants.

  He reached two of his fingers into her bra, the soft pad of his fingertips finding her nipple. The room went quiet again.

  “Sure,” she said. Her voice sounded clipped. Determined.

  “Okay,” she added.

  He was surprised, wanted to laugh with delight. But instead, he stood on the bed and unzipped his fly. He wasn’t completely sure she’d follow through, and he didn’t want to give her any easy excuses to back out.

  Pulling his cock out, he stroked it. Let his pants fall to his knees.