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Wreckin-Aids-Bone (Wab)


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Wreckin-Aids-Bone (WAB)

Part 1: The heat from the pavement rolled up and over Jerome’s body like a tsunami inundating a small island. New York City had not seen a heat wave like this in May for fuck – like 80 years or some shit. Slowly Jerome pushed himself away from the rough, brick wall, stood up straight, took the well-used red tank top out of his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face and chest. He paused, shook his head, rubbed his aching stomach and ran a finger over his protruding bulge. Yeah man needed to eat – and soon. Here is his story.

 

My momma’s voice keeps ringing in my head over and over no matter what I do, how fucked up I get…’faggy’…’faggy’…’faggy’. Her pain, anger, sorrow, confusion – all like a fucking knife in my guts and trust, I know how bad that can fucking feel as the finger-length scar on my left side shows. “Jerome Christopher Hughes – what in the fuck Lord’s name you doing?” I knew it was bad when she used my full name and the name of God. Well what can I say, Mr. Gonstill’s mouth felt good and he could swallow my dick right down to the pubes and flick his tongue on my balls at the same time. Holy FUCK! I always shot monster loads with his mouth on me. Yeah he was an old white dude from across the street who could have been my grandpa from another mother, and he would take his teeth out when he sucked me. I ain’t no fucking faggy, but I tell you right now that felt better than any pussy I ever dipped in and a mouth’s a mouth and a hole’s a hole – you feel me? The first time he did that was the week after I had graduated high school. I had turned 18 and momma had worked 2 or 3 jobs to ensure I could just focus on school, but once that shit was done, she said it was time for me to man up, get to work, and figure out what came next in life. Mr. Gonstill had a fancy printer that I had used before for school papers and shit and he said he would print off some resumes for me. Well that day when I showed up he had some wild shit porn playing, a few smokes for me, some cold beer, and it didn’t take much to persuade me to blow my load down this throat then two more up his ass. Any time I was in need all I had to do was show up and he was ready to take my monster BBC anyway I wanted, and I always got something good in return. I might be an ugly dude but I got a big dick, and that will fucking compensate for a lot. No one knew about what I did. Not my girl, not my homies - although a couple of them I dicked down to on the DL – and certainly not my fam. Well that was until the day my momma came home early and went looking for me at Mr. Gonstill’s and found us in his garage.

 

So here I am, JC – that’s my nickname – coolin on a corner in New York City (NYC) – my stomach rumbling, my ass crack sweating, my balls aching, my dick dripping, my chest is tight from this fucking cough I cannot shake. In between bumming a few smokes, I ain’t been doing nothing all day except holding up this fucking wall, trying not to scratch the shit out of my face from my beard – damn need a shave – and twisting my hair into something half presentable. I’ve been in the city for a couple months now and its been one ”fuck-me-over” after another. After momma threw me out without even a dip of all the cash I had saved up that she was hanging onto for me, I got Mr. Gonstill to give me enough dough for a bus ticket out of Cincinnati. He let me use his phone to call my cuz – Treyvon in NYC, who said I could crash with him and his baby momma. I had to fuck Mr. Gonstill for all that, but not like the first time, so as I walked down the street – the stank of his ass on my dick – I turned one last time to look back at the house I had known all my life.

 

I hit NYC with nothing but the clothes on my back and $10 in my pocket and by the time I got to Treyvon’s in the fucking hood even that was gone. He set me up though – at first anyways. The first few days was like fucking jamming as we drank, did whatever drugs he laid out, and fucked whatever ass was closest.

 

It was about 4 days in when I got sick the first time. I puked, shit, and hacked my insides out for almost a week straight. That kind of hell takes a toll and just as I was beginning to think I might feel like eating again, my fuckin cuz kicked me to the damn curb as word had spread – my momma had called his momma and well, I was dead to the family now – even to my lazy ass punk cuz. FUCK!

 

Nights on the streets in NYC are fucked up. The freaks and hood fucks come out, shit goes down, and you need a place to roll up and keep out of shit. I didn’t have that, or any cash to get it, and have to admit I busted a few noses and did some other shit to survive. I had been on the streets about 3 weeks I guess when I discovered one of the Adult Book Stores (ABS). For a few bucks, me and other folks from the street - hustlers, thieves, homeless, life’s cast outs - could stay warm, avoid the worst of the night’s crazy shit, and if we got lucky, find a warm hole to nutt up in or a few a extra bucks for our pocket. When the ABS don’t work, I crawl up in some basement, trap house if I can, or just walk til the sun comes up. Yeah, a few faggies have offered me a place to crash but I ain’t looking for no strings. Been offered a few hustling jobs – not the sex kind, but drugs and shit – and I ain’t looking to get rolled up in no crew and become someone’s bitch – so I go it alone. It ain’t been so bad except for those days when the sickness hits again like truck barreling down the highway. In NYC puking on the sidewalk is a common every day thing – but it’s the squatting in some alley for hours on end that can get to you.

 

Anyways, last night at the ABS is where I came to hear the phrase AidsBone for the first time. I had always been a slim kat and on my 6”2 frame, losing 10 pounds from being sick made me look even thinner – yet made my 10inch black dick look gigantic! I was probably down closer to 15 now, my cheeks sunken in, dark circles around my eyes from not sleeping. I was hot, hungry, and broke and figured could cool off in the ABS and maybe make a couple bucks. The first time I showed up there I had to let the clerk touch my dick with a promise to fuck him later if he let me in (he played that shit with all the ‘new trade’) – cool – I could fuck skanky ass no problem. Tonight as I came through the door the clerk smiled, waved me through to the back, and went back to reading his trashy magazine after making a note on my ‘tab’ that I owed him another fuck for the free pass. Once I cooled down a little and made a few rounds of the usual trolls, hall-wall holders (those faggys who just stood around holding up the wall), the few scared tourists and a couple locals, I zoned in on this little youngin white guy. All the folks were cruising that little wanker ass and I figured he would go for more of the clean cut, handsome types that were there. Some of the hustlers were down right pretty boys – not the TS, TV, CD’s that were there – but boys who were just damn pretty. But no, the youngin kept scoping me out – eyeing my thugness. My sick look and dirty clothes, did not seem to put him off.

 

I made my way around the corner and to the end of the back hall and settled myself by the last booth. Slowly the white youngin made his way back towards me, his pale skin almost glowing in the shadows and dark lights of the ABS. He was nervous for sure, but held his own deflecting the advances he encountered along the way. When he got to me, he looked at the floor, his head down, fumbled in his pocket, “Want a cigarette? He asked. I nodded, took tapped out a couple, took the lighter he handed to me, inhaled, pocketed the lighter as he looked confused with his own unlit cigarette still in his hand. I kept on smoking so he pulled the pack back out of his pocket and put the one he was holding back in. I grabbed his wrist, squeezed, brought his hand up and his fingers automatically released and drop the pack of cigarettes into my hand. I smiled, nodded, and said, “Whatch-you need kid?”

 

The white youngin nervously looked around and looked ready to bolt as some of the aggressive trolls started closing in. I grabbed him by the arm, swung him around so his back was to the wall and I placed myself between him and them. I turned and snapped, “STEP THE FUCK OFF MOTHA-FUCKERS!” to the closest trolls who slunk back the way they had come. I asked again, “Whatch-you need kid?” This time he looked up, licked his lips, fished back in his pocket and pulled out a folded $50. I snatched the Grant, stuffed it in my pocket with his lighter, set the cigarette between my teeth as I unzipped my pants and fished out my stank, ripe, black dick. The youngin’s mouth gaped, he reached out to stroke it and I smacked his hand away, tapped my cigarette out on the wall beside his head and set it on the ledge molding that ran about head height along the wall for later. I looked at him and sneered. “Here’s the rules. NO touching, no kissing, NO sucking. You feel me?” He just nodded, fished back in his pocket and pulled out a ratty looking condom packet. I snatched that too, tossed it into the hallway behind me – let one of the trolls use that shit if they want – and when the youngin looked at me questioningly I said, “I ONLY FUCK RAW, NOW PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN.” His face lit up like a fucking angel on the Christmas tree!

 

“You want to go into a booth? Someplace more private maybe?” he asked. I shook my head no, hell I was not wasting a dime on that shit when I had some raw ass pussy right in front of me and frankly had all the privacy I needed. I’m a wild freak and don’t mind folks watching and had barely got a little spit on my dick before the youngin’s pants were down and his white ass pushed out waiting. I lined up my dick, grabbed his hips, and pushed hard. The youngin cried out, which just made my dick swell and unleash some prejizz. The next shove popped his pink little hole and before he could cry out again I covered his mouth with my left hand. I pulled my dick all the way out, spit a couple times, smeared it around, lined my monster back up, and this time before I popped his hole again I laced my right fingers with my left, covering his whole fucking face, his breath coming out hot and rapid against my skin. I gently moved my hips a little and his breathing got even faster in anticipation, I then clamped my hands tight on his skull and SLAMMED THAT ASS!

 

The youngin’s body went stiff as I slam fucked him against the wall, busting that hole open wide, tearing those pussy walls up. All my anger, frustration, and craziness came out as I fucked him hard and fast. After a couple minutes of brutal pounding his body relaxed, his hole gave out, and I moved my hands from his face to his shoulders so I could dig him out for the grand finale.

 

“GIVE ME THAT AIDSBONE,” the youngin gasped and pleaded. WTF? What the fuck? “FUCK ME WITH YOUR AIDS DICK MISTER, POZ MY HOLE, WRECK IT – OH FUCK YEAH PLEASE WRECK IT!” Hot damn – guess it is the quiet ones you got to watch out for.

 

Hell that shit made my dick steel hard – holy Christ. I stepped back, edged my dick to the lip of his ass pussy and slammed back in. Fucking faggy loved it and moaned, groaned, and begged, “PUSH YOUR AIDSBONE IN ME, CUM IN ME MISTER, OH PLEASE FUCKING CUM IN ME, FUCK IT HARDER – THAT’S IT MISTER – HARDER – YEAH POZ ME UP – POZ MY ASS WITH THAT DICK.”

 

I had fucked some dudes a bit rough before, with my size you had to now and then to get your nutt – but this, this was a balls out rape fuck with no mercy. I wanted his ass to hurt, wanted him to feel it, wanted him to experience the same sort of pain I was feeling and man did he! I shredded his guts and felt my balls pull high, tighten up like race horse at the gate raring to go, and one final thrust and I blew my toxic wadd as deep as I could in his faggy ass. I bottomed out and broke through something when I did making him cry out even louder. He had no place to run and I held him on my dick as my balls jumped up and down, pistoning my cum out.

 

I was done –with him anyways – and pulled my dick out in one tug. He sounded like a mouse with his head in a trap on that one. I laughed, reached over him, grabbed the half-smoked cigarette off the ledge, used his – now my – lighter, and took a well-deserved long drag. The youngin was panting as he looked at me with awe, wonder, lust, need, and a newfound calling in life. I knew guys liked my dick, but this was different. This was RAPTURE. BLISS. ECSTASY pure and true and the blood rushed like a flash flood back into my dick and I was ready to go again. The youngin stared in amazement, I chuckled, and laughed right in his face as he now begged and pleaded, “Please fuck it again – oh my God, I need your AIDS man, did you poz me? Will you wreck my ass again? Please, oh please I NEED IT!”

 

I just looked at him without a word, he got the message, “Umm…I only got like $5.00 left. I can give you more tomorrow, will you be here tomorrow?” I stepped away, dropped my smoke on the floor, looked at the crowd we had gathered and eyed one of the regular pretty boys that had tried to get me to fuck him before. I knew his pockets were full with goodies and while I generally lived by the adage ‘don’t shit where you eat’ and didn’t need any drama, my balls were full up again and it had to go someplace. I swaggered over to the pretty boy and said, “You think you can handle this?” He nodded, practically jumped into one of the booths while trying to get naked at the same time. I turned to the youngin, “Come better prepared tomorrow,” closed the video booth door, and as the youngin pulled himself together and headed out into the night he could hear the cries of the pretty boy getting his ass pussy hole wrecked with my AIDSbone.

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Part 2: AIDs Bone – Wrecker – POZ – the boy’s begging for my load exposed something primal in me. A newfound need was exposed like the ragged edges of flesh from a scab pulled away too soon and the only way to soothe the sharp hurt was to take it out on his sorry faggy ass. I had already gaped the youngin and got $50 in my pocket for it, and now the beast in me demanded more to sate my hunger. Did the pretty boy beg for me to stop? Probably. Did the pretty boy beg for me not to fuck so hard? Definitely. Did the pretty get what he wanted? No, he got what he deserved – my Wreckin-AIDs-Bone.

 

With a final grunt I blew another load into a wet, shredded hole in the ABS. The pretty boy was still gasping in pleasure, pain, and desire as he held out his hand full of goodies from his stuffed pockets and let me take what I desired. A crumpled $100 he got for sucking some old white dude probably, and a bus pass, and a few other things I knew I could trade, and I was driven to find my next victim. I tucked my slime covered dick away, brushed past the eager crowd waiting in the hall, and made my way out front.

 

The skanky clerk was still ready his trashy magazine when I came out from the back. He looked at me and could tell I was a man needing to breed and before he could make an offer I laid out my terms, “I want to settle up. My tab is wiped clean and I get to come and go anytime I please. Give me one of those membership pass things. In return – (and for dramatic affect I unzipped my pants and hauled out my semi-hard, still ass slime covered black dick) – I got two more loads at least I got to bust. You can run, cry, whateva the fuck I don’t care, but my nutt is going in your ass – NOW!”

 

OMFG the look on his skank face as his eyes bulged, he swallowed hard, his hands shook, and he glanced around to see if anyone else was in the ABS right then as he had that look of, “Did you just hear what I heard? Is that right?” – HA! I stepped up onto the little stage behind the counter that his stool was perched on, my man stink thick and dark like my dick, and casually set my now swollen meat on his forearm and asked, “So you in?” As I was waiting for his reply one of the coughing fits came on and I hacked a loogie right onto the floor at the foot of his stool and waited.

 

A few hems, haws, and we had an agreement. I don’t like owing nobody nothing and tonight’s fuck would take care of my ABS debt and set me up for getting in and out anytime I wanted. I don’t trust folks no more and asked the clerk if the other folks that worked there would give me shit about the pass and he laughed and told me no, he was the fucking owner too – who knew? I didn’t want to go back into the booths, so while I waited for him to wrap up and hand off to the next clerk, I sat outside on the stoop next door and smoked and welcomed the heat. While I sweated like a bitch, it did seem to keep the cough at bay. A couple cigs later the owner came out of the ABS and tried to strike up a friendly chat, but this was business, so I waved him to step back and then followed several paces behind as he led me to his walk up a few blocks away.

 

His apartment was not big or fancy and maybe had been nice in 1950. Guess owning an ABS is not the way to make bucks. He told me to make myself comfortable and when I asked for the john so I could take a piss he was on his knees in 2 seconds flat, mouth open, and well hell, I filled his gut with two kidney’s worth of rankness. I asked if he wanted me to wash up or anything and he told me no, he liked musky dudes, real men, hated cologne and deodorant and shit, and I was with him on that. Fucking faggys and pretty boys smelled like a flower mart.

 

I lit up a cigarette, set my t-shirt on the back of the wood chair to give some cushion against the bones that jutted out of my spine when the ABS owner said, “You know, I might be able to set you up with some clients. Pass folks your way at the store if you’d work for me, nothing big, just a small cut of what you make.” I shook my head no, I was not looking for no pimp. He tried another tact, “OK, OK, well how about moving some product for me? Some of the guys do that for me. Little bits – nothing big mind you – don’t need the men in blue coming down on me – but just bits to keep folks happy.” I shook my head no again, stamped out the cigarette on the old plate he had set down for me to use as an ashtray, stood up, dropped my pants, and pointed to a spot in front of me.

 

I let a few mouthfuls of tobacco spit slick the dried slime on my 10-inch black dick as the ABS owner scrambled for some lube, condoms, towels, and even set a cock ring on the table. What the fuck? Did I look like I needed that grandpa shit to keep hard? Two nutts down and my dick was brick and dripping. He bent over in front of me, his hands braced on a built in bookshelf that lined the wall that was full of little figurines, pictures, and granny nick-knacks. I lobbed some more tobacco spit onto my hand and jammed my finger in his crack. He cried out, stepped away, and that just pissed me off. All my anger, frustration, and fucked up shit came racing back up and I needed to let it out.

 

“OH NO, PLEASE DON’T, NOT YET, LET ME GET USED TO IT!” the ABS owner cried out as I pushed him against the bookshelf and drove my dick into ass. He was pretty dry and I knew it would tear him up good and that made my dick start streaming some nasty cum. He continued blabbering, “NOT RAW – NO NOT RAW – I ONLY FUCK SAFE – YOU BEEN TESTED RIGHT? YOU NEG?” What the fuck ever. He owned a God damn adult video store where hustlers and street trade got down and busy, he was taking it raw no matter what.

 

His body stiffened and went into shock as my 10 inches busted through his outer ring and drove through the second hole. “YOU JUST A FAGGY FOR THIS AIDSBONE DICK AIN’T YOU? THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT AIN’T IT? I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING TO WRECK THAT ASS, MAKE IT MY PUSSY, AND NUTT IT UP. WHAT YOU FUCKING THOUGHT I WAS FRONTIN? WE MADE A DEAL MAN, YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WAS GETTING, NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME THAT NASTY, GRIMEY HOLE.”

 

The first load went right up his shitter in 60-seconds flat. Had to give it to him, for an older dude his hole was tight – used to be – HA! Now it was gaping and open and I held him against the built in as I lifted my right leg up, braced it on one of the shelves, and started to stretching his ass and scraping him up.

 

Funny where your mind goes sometimes, but as I stood there banging the living shit out of the skanky ABS owner I thought about what he asked. Had I been tested. No. Never. I realized I frankly didn’t care. Maybe I had AIDs, maybe I had some other shit, so what? I did know that thinking I was pozzing their faggy asses got me rockin, and splatters of pink, gaping and bruised ass lips, made my shit harder than it had ever been. Wreckin-AIDs-Bone. The capital W. A. B. – yeah fuckas that’s me.

 

I had stretched that hole enough and was ready to drop some more toxic babies up his chute. I pulled the ABS owner away from the shelves, yanked my dick out of his torn up ass making him cry like the bitch that he was, pushed him down onto the floor, and dropped back up that hole. You ever seen one of those bratty kids in Walmart throw an all out temper tantrum in the middle of the aisle? Legs and arms flailing? Incoherent blabbering and crying? Yeah? That was him – HA! He might have been begging me to stop but I knew he wanted more of my nutt and more importantly, I needed a hole to bust in.

 

The stains from that fuck may never come out of those old wood floors and seeing that made my dick swell right back up. Jesus fuck! I could tell his hole was done and broken. I had wrecked it and that shit was not snapping back anytime soon. What the hell – the third load would be a tip. I pushed my swollen black dick as deep as it would physically go and would have slid my balls in too if that hole had opened up. The ABS owner was drooling and whimpering from being stuffed so deep and I ground my hips around, side to side, back and forth, gauging his innards and getting him primed. I dropped my fill weight onto his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. As he lay there gasping I asked, “YOU READY FOR SOME MORE OF THIS AIDS BONE? YOU KNOW THAT PUSSY IS POZ NOW RIGHT. I KNOW IT HURTS AND TRUST – THIS IS A FUCK YOU WILL WANK THAT LITTLE SHIT DICK OFF THINKING ABOUT FOR YEARS TO COME. FEEL HOW DEEP I AM? WANT ME TO TAKE IT OUT? LIKE THIS? NO? YOU WANT THAT AIDS BONE BACK IN THERE HUH? SAY IT – TELL ME YOU WANT THAT PUSSY WRECKED. TELL ME YOU WANT MY AIDS NUTT. TELL ME YOU WANT ME TO BURY MY BONE DEEP IN YOUR BACK YARD!”

 

A good 10 minutes later and I was done raping that ass. I stood up, looked at his pathetic ass laying there on the floor, and decide to leave another parting gift. The ABS owner never even flinched as the fist drops of hot piss dropped on his face and while he lay on his floor I covered him in more of my rank water and now he was marked on the outside as well as the inside. Time for me to roll. I got dressed, lit a cigarette, and even in his post-fuck stupor the ABS owner tried to get me to stay, snuggle, and hang and shit. I had to be real and let the man know that damn dude – you ain’t my homie and you ain’t my boo – you just some worthless piece of ass I just used the way a man does now step the fuck off!

 

I hit the streets. The heat was still monster, but I still had business to take care of. I easily found someone to trade off the goodies I had snatched from the pretty boy for some cash and more cigarettes. My pockets were stuffed and flush and I didn’t quite know what to do about it. The rumbling and ache in my stomach said I should grab some grub to eat, but part of my mind said I should find someplace to crash, or buy some new clothes, or, or…. Christ too many fucking ‘ors’ so I went with first option and spent a few bucks on my first decent meal in a long fucking while.

 

So here I am, JC, coolin on a corner in New York City (NYC) – my stomach rumbling again as that little something I snagged last night only went so far and my fist is tight and since I don’t know when my next funds will appear am taking it slow. My ass crack is sweating, my balls aching, my dick dripping, my chest is heavy from this fucking cough I cannot shake. In between bumming a few smokes, I ain’t been doing nothing all day except holding up this fucking wall, trying not to scratch the shit out of my face from my beard – damn need a shave – and twisting my hair into something half presentable.

 

The sidewalks are busy as folks rush home from their jobs to their warm beds, families, hot meals, cool drinks and shit. Not me. I’m back by the ABS waiting. I tap my pocket, feel the ridge of the pass the ABS owner gave me before I fucked the life out of him last night. I ain’t seen him yet and fuck don’t even know exactly what time it is as my watch stopped working weeks ago, but figure he should be showing up soon along with the regular pretty boys, hustlers, dealers, and other low life that haunt the ABS waiting for their prey.

 

Am I a lowlife now too? Yeah, and a thug, and an AIDS Bone cunt Wrecker, so embrace the dream fuckas! Folks had gotten tight fisted with the smokes, so I was now busting back into the pack I took off the youngin last night. The discarded butts around my feet testified to how long I had been hanging but I had this itch, this need, and while part of me said it was stupid, the other part of me knew the little faggy would be back.

 

Dark shadows now enveloped the streets of NYC while only the tops of the tallest buildings still sparkled under the blazing sun. I heard some high-pitched giggles, a titter, a laugh, and turned and watched as the youngin and some other little white dude sashayed down the sidewalk. They stood out like a fucking neon bulls eye in this neighborhood and it was not until I yelled “YO!” as he started to pass me that the youngin from last night that begged for my AIDs bone stopped. His friend gasped, clamped a hand over his mouth, fluttered his lashes and sighed, “Is this him? How fucking delicious? You’re right. He is n.a.s.t. capital Y – nasty! OOOHHH.”

 

Yeah that bitch boy needed to shut his mouth. The youngin slapped his friend on the shoulder and turned to me and said, “Hey – we…ummm. We got a room at a hotel up town. I told my friends I had special surprise for them and was hoping I would see you again. You interested in partying with us tonight?” I looked them up and down, my dick bulging in my pants as I thought about pozzing their white bread faggy asses. The youngin then quickly added as he patted his pocket, “I’m TOTALLY prepared.” I stepped forward, grabbed his queenie little friend by the arm, spun him around and he hit the wall hard. I leaned in, my cigarette and unbrushed teeth breath right in his face as I asked, “You looking for some raw thug dick too?”

 

He blushed 50 shades of red and purple, wiggled out of my grip and squealed to his friend, “OH MY GOD he is PERFECT!” Yeah that little bitch was going to get slapped then fucked down.

 

I leaned back against the wall as the two youngins chatted, giggled, and hopped back and forth as we waited for the car service they had called. No subway for them. No taxis either. Whatever. I smoked a couple more cigarettes, the car arrived, they climbed in and I followed and shut the door. My dick needed some attention so as we pulled away from the curb I unzipped my pants, plopped my hard dick out and said to the youngin from last night who was sitting beside me, “Lick my shit.” The two faggies gasped, tittered, said they could not because of the driver, but 30 seconds later his pink lips were sucking my shit down as his friend watched in awe. The fucking driver knew better than to comment and kept his eyes on the road.

 

We rolled up to some fancy hotel, a man in a funny looking jacket opened the door, paused as he looked me up and down, and coolly said, “Shirts are required to enter the premises – SIR!” I dropped a thick loogie at his feet, pulled out a cigarette, lit up, then said, “Here Holmes, hold this will you while I put my shirt on.” The two faggies giggled and laughed, I slid my red t-shirt on, took my smoke back, and swaggered through the front door like I was the fucking king.

 

When we got to the room – not a room a suite – there were three other little white youngins there. Smoking, drinking, partying, whatever. All eyes stared at me, mouths gaped, holes clenched, and I could smell the God damn bank! These little queens might be thinking that mommy and daddy’s money can let them dip their toe into the edge of my world, well I planned to drag them down into it and mark each every fucking one with my BBC and plant my toxic nutt deep – willingly or not. They sure the fuck were not going to call the cops – and say what? They paid some street dick to pump their pussies and it was too much? HA!

 

The youngins all huddled together so I pulled the curtains back a little, slid the door back, and stepped out onto the small balcony. Fucking eh! The suite was located on the end of the building with a fucking awesome view of the city. The small balcony was private with no one in direct line of vision, but I planned to make sure whoever was above or below us knew what was going down. The youngin from last night stepped out, leaned against me, “Isn’t it marvelous?” he asked in his best imitation of Marilyn Monroe. My dick was primed and ready to go.

 

I spun him around, ripped the button on his Ralph Lauren shorts, exposed his lilly white ass, and drove my dirty nails into his puckered hole to get it nice and primed. He squealed and squirmed but there was no place to run as I dry slammed my dick into his pink pussy. Yeah bitch fucker wanted my AIDs Bone? Wanted that cunt Wrecked? Well he needed to get bloodied up. He was gasping, I bottomed out then whispered in his ear, “You got something for me?” His right hand shook, then pointed down to his shorts. With my dick still buried in his ass, I bent forward, fumbled in the pocket, pulled out the wad of bills and flicked through them. Yeah fucking Christ this was going to be good.

 

The youngin’s cries drew his friends like ducklings to their mother. “Let them hear what you want!” I ordered. He just grunted as I thrust deep so I slapped his head – hard. “I FUCKIN SAID LET THEM HEAR WHAT YOU WANT!” Another slap and he obeyed, loud enough for the folks on the street below to hear – ha!

 

“I NEED YOUR AIDS MAN, GIVE ME YOUR AIDS BONE, FUCK IT – WRECK IT – POZ MY HOLE, MY PUSSY – PLEASE POZ MY PUSSY – MAKE IT DIRTY MAN – HURT IT OH YES PLEASE MISTER HURT IT – OUCH – OH STOP – NO DON’T STOP, DON’T, DEEPER, OH YES DEEPER – YOU GOING TO NUTT IN ME? FUCK ME? YOU GOING TO NUTT?”

 

Damn, fucking yammering tweaked out youngin – but yeah, I was going to nutt and his little buddies were all watching in awe and wonder as I pozzed his ass up – again. My balls bounced several times in a row pumping my viral load into his now blown out ass. Yeah his ass was now a prime example of how size queens get made.

 

I stepped back, my still hard dick dripping with cum, ass juice, and more from the brutal breeding of their friend and asked, “Who’s next?”

 

One by one I mounted their white, tight little holes, and left every one of them full of thug babies and AIDS Bone nutt. I raped them, bred them, used them, and abused them all for my pleasure and trust – their fucking pleasure too. With each fuck my pockets got padded thicker and thicker and by the 5th youngin he was eager to slick my palms with five Franklins when he tasted my toxic drool still flowing from my monster BBC.

 

I could also tell this was not his first time at the BBC bull rodeo and as I got close to filling his pussy with the hottest creampie in town he got into racial verbal talk too, which I also discovered I liked and let him know it. After he wiped his mouth from licking me clean – dick and balls – and ensuring that not a remnant of ass funk from him or his buddies was left on me, he leaned back on his knees and said, “You know. My daddies would dig you. They will be in from the Hamptons this week and if you don’t mind someone a little older I know they would LOVE LOVE LOVE to let you tie them up and fuck them like that. They’re into that freaky shit you know.”

 

I had to laugh, little bitch had cum/ass juice stains on his face like he had been in a berry patch and my hot load dripping out of his gaping cunt he thought his daddies were freaky? I stroked my dick just to show him I had all he – and they – could take and more, and said, “Let me check my fucking calendar.”

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Part 3: You’d think my balls would be drained, but they kept brewing toxic jizz like a major distillery. Five more queer pussies filled with my AIDs BONE. Five more faggy cunts WRECKED. Their pockets were full of pink, frothy thug nutt, and mine were full of Franklins. I lit up a cigarette as I swaggered down the sidewalk, a smile on my face, my dick straining against my dirty jeans wanting more. First things first, I needed to lighten my cash load as walking around the streets of NYC with that kind of wad will get a fucker shot and robbed.

 

I made my way several blocks across town, then several more south. Yeah I could have hopped a bus, but like I said before, I planned to be tight with this cash until I knew this money stream was a sure thing. A good bit of walking, a few more cigarettes, and a sopping wet t-shirt from wiping all the sweat off my torso and chest and I eased past this old trap house I had crashed at a few times. The games that had been run out of here had moved on, so the place was mostly boarded up and abandoned except for a few old regulars who curled up in a dusty corner for a bit of shut eye or the occasional street trade or junkie looking for a little privacy.

 

Squeezing through the hole in the fence, I eased my way to the weed filled back yard and by the light of the moon found a stack of concrete blocks near the back corner. I quietly lifted a couple away, looked around, dug out a little patch of ground with a spoon I nicked from the hotel, then tucked most of the cash I had into the hole and covered it back up. I had also taken a bag of chips and used the empty bag to hide the cash, but also protect it from getting wet. The blocks back in place, I stretched, scratched my balls and tugged at my hungry dick, and considered my next steps.

 

I pulled a $5 out of my pocket, found the little path that would take me to the side of the house that was all dark, and from the coughing and snorting could tell Lil’Petey was tripping. I met Petey the first time I crashed at this trap house. Short, thin, sickly looking little white dude who reminded me of this kid I went to school with when I was like 6. Petey was like 20, but looked younger and like me, had got thrown out and the streets had not been kind to him. He made it worse by the shit he did, but to each his own.

 

“Yo Lil’Petey?” I said in a loud whisper when I got to the haggard stack of cardboard boxes he called home. Petey stuck his head out through a hole in some plastic, looked at me, rubbed his eyes, coughed, rubbed his mouth, “JC, what’s up? Hey, can I bum a smoke?” I held up a full pack, and the $5 and even in the moonlight Petey’s eyes got wide and eager. I couldn’t help but smile, an evil smile yeah, but a smile none the less.

 

“Here’s the deal Lil’Petey. I’ll give you a smoke, and this bill, but you got to do something for me,” I said in temptation. “I got my dick used real good tonight and the skin is practically rubbed right off from all the fucking I’ve done, but my balls are still full and I got some more to bust.” I figured best not to let him in on my need to poz some ass, to wreck a fag hole, to bury my AIDs Bone. Petey shook his head back and forth real fast like a dog with a tick, “Oh no. NO! I told you before, I don’t do that shit. No way. Nah-uh. NO!” Before I knew it Petey had retreated back into his cardboard castle like a groundhog who had seen his shadow and all I heard was mumbling.

 

I reached into my pocket, pulled out another $5, squatted down, pushed the plastic aside and crawled part way into Petey’s hidey hole. It was a lot fucking bigger on the inside than it seemed and Petey had blankets, a couple flashlights giving him light, an old pot with a packet of Ramen Noodles softening up in tepid water and old milk crates full of this and that and odds and ends. Petey was proud of his noodles. Who knew you didn’t have to actually cook them. Just let them sit long enough in water and VOILA!

 

A thick length of ash dropped off my cigarette and onto Petey’s cardboard floor and I casually brushed it aside as I finished crawling into his abode. Petey shrieked like I had just burned a new carpet and frantically grabbed a rag, wiped at the scattered ash and mumbled what an ass I was as I made myself comfortable. I couldn’t help but laugh, dropping more ash onto my chest as I did, which I casually brushed away and all over the floor creating a new burst of frenzy in Petey.

 

Once we both settled I held out the two $5s, and the full pack of smokes. I didn’t know what Petey did to survive and while I had tried to fuck him before when I had no other option - not that I had options before the last two days really - I realized I still wanted his white little ass, but for my taboo desires. Petey’s eyes fixed on the cash and pack of cigarettes. “Now Petey, we known each other a while now right? You know I’m a good guy right? I’ve tried to help you here and there even when I ain’t had nothing myself, right? I don’t expect something for noting. I got something for you and if all goes well, will have a lot more. So come on Petey, what do you say? Help a brotha out?”

 

I could tell Petey was thinking it over hard and long, just like my 10-inch BBC, so I set the cash down, the pack of cigs on top, and wiggled out of my jeans and started stroking my dick. I leaned back, smoked, lobbed some smoke spit on my dick, and kept stroking. Petey was quiet as a church mouse, but then in barely a whisper he said, “OK.” My eyes flashed open, I got on my knees, grabbed Petey and pulled him towards me as he squawked and squealed. I didn’t care; my dick was ready. Petey put up some feigned resistance as we wrestled a bit, but soon I had his pants pulled down, his body pinned to the cardboard floor, and as Petey hacked up a lung in a coughing fit I drove my spit covered dick into his virgin hole.

 

Yeah, that’s right, contrary to what I thought likely, Petey was a virgin. I popped his cherry – OK I slam busted it wide open – and drove my AIDS Bone deep into his ass. I had to pull out and respit it up several times, but once it got sloppy there was no stopping me. Petey started whimpering and crying so I held my dirty t-shirt over his face to muffle the sound and pressed my hand tight against his mouth. I liked that shit. Totally in charge! I could feel his jaw muscles working, trying to scream out as I raped his ass bloody, but my need to poz fuck his ass overrode any concern for Petey right then. All that mattered was wrecking his ass – plowing him deep – tearing it – making it mine.

 

Petey’s body tensed and his little cheeks got hard and stiff and tried to press together as I pounded his hole and said, “TAKE MY FUCKING AIDS BONE DICK. YOUR PUSSY IS MINE NOW. MY LITTLE WHITE PUSSY. MARKING YOU WITH MY NUTT. THAT PUSSY JUST MADE FOR TOP DADDY DICK! IT’S MINE NOW. YOU BETTER NOT LET NO OTHER THUG RUN UP IN THIS SHIT. ONLY ME – YOU HEAR ME? [sLAP] HUH? THAT’S RIGHT. I POZZED IT – I OWN IT.”

 

My sticky taffy dribbled like hot lava out of my piss slit and into Petey’s wrecked hole. It burned his guts and made him cry even harder and then at some point the little faggy passed out. I like to think because I fucked the life out of him, but could have been whatever shit he had been playing at earlier. Either way did not matter, as nothing changed and for round two I planned to bury my balls deep up that fuzzy little white peach ass and plant some more seed.

 

The morning light filtered through the plastic and holes between the cardboard box walls, and I looked in amazement at Petey’s gaping hole. It was red, angry, puffy, bruised, raw, and wide open like the Holland Tunnel. I dropped back in it, Petey grunted, I dug around. Holy Christ, scraping his guts with my dick head, burrowing my poz cum into his walls, making his body shiver and cringe with every thrust kept my shit brick fucking hard!

 

Petey was a natural little dick pig and rode me for a while and then I flipped him onto his back, lifted his legs and slammed his cunt. He tried to push me away but I had seen red on his ass lips last time I pulled out and that was like a matador’s cape to a bull. Petey coughed and tried to push me off him but there was no stopping me. Snot flew from his nose, his eyes watered, and as Lil’Petey started to beg, “Poz me, poz my ass, poz me,” I lifted his hips back and up so I could drop my full weight into his pucker with every push of my dick. I had Petey bent like a side show contortionist as I wrapped my hands around his throat, and looked into eyes as I said, “HERE COMES THAT AIDS BONE TRAIN. BREAKING THOSE TUNNEL WALLS. RUNNING THOSE RAILS. FEEL THIS BLACK LOCOMOTIVE DICK WRECKING THAT WHITE PUSSY. MAKING THAT CUNT BLEED FOR YOUR DADDY’S DICK. OPEN THAT MOUTH – TAKING MY COUGH SPIT – YOU MY BOY NOW PETEY, GOOD LIL’PETEY, TAKE DADDY’S DICK, TIGHTEN THAT HOLE UP SO I CAN BUST IT WIDE OPEN AGAIN, BREAK THAT RING, SHATTER THAT SHITTER, FILL YOU WITH MY NUTT – HERE IT COMES PETEY, HERE COMES DADDY’S NUTT….FILLING YOU UP…BACK THAT CABOOSE UP FOR THIS LOAD…SLOPPY FUCKING HOLE…DRIPPING DADDY’S JIZZ….FUCKING HELL BOY!!!”

 

I laid curled up with Petey in his cardboard box shanty, my right arm protectively over him, his head nestled between my left arm and my chest, and my AIDs Bone buried in his cum filled ass. While I had let out my anger and hate fuck on Petey’s ass – at least the first load – the last load was well, not that. I liked the lil-dude. Something about his frail, sickly little body turned me the fuck on. Underneath the dirt, the funk, the homeless exterior was a warm hearted little man – my man – at least for the here and now. We napped, shared a cigarette, some of Petey’s noodles, and then as the heat of the day picked up I asked Petey if he wanted to go hang with me at the ABS. “No, can’t, I got to…to do some things today,” he said as he shyly looked at the ground. I could smell my nutt on him, my dick swelled again, I reached down and lifted his chin up so I could see his eyes, “You want me to come back later and see you?” Lil’Petey smiled yes and I was tempted to bang his hole out again right there in the middle of the weedy back yard. Instead, I smacked his ass, turned, and made my way back out through the fence and down the street.

 

Lil’Petey might be my side piece now, but I still had business to attend to. It would be two more days before the youngin I fucked at the hotel said his daddies would be in town. Between now and then I planned to fuck as much ass as I could, and find more willing hole for my Wreckin-AIDs-Bone. Instead of hitting the ABS right off, I snatched one of the local rags off the newsstand and started scouring the classifieds. If things worked out like I thought they might, I would be in shape to get my own little place soon. Fuck, living on the streets adjusts your level of thinking of what you need to be happy and right now, just my own bed was sounding like the Taj Mahal.

 

I hopped the subway up to Harlem and got off at 125th Street. My funk and unkempt appearance gave me plenty of elbow room on the train as well as a few glares and stares, or maybe it was because my anaconda kept trying to peek out my jeans as all I could think about was wrecking some more bussy. Once back on the streets I walked up and down several blocks, eyeing out some of the places I had seen ads for saying they have rooms or apartments to rent. One ad that had caught my eye because of the price, which I thought must be wrong at only $350 per month, sounded too good to be true. It boasted a private entrance through the alley behind 131st, ‘stand alone bungalow’, ‘private bath’, ‘needs love’ all that must be code for, ‘home of serial killer who will deflesh you in the tub and bury you in the basement and nobody will fucking know because the City of NYC won’t do shit about the stank’.

 

I slowly walked by the front of the house and like me it had seen better days. While others on the block were restored or redone, this one looked like it had not been touched in a 100 years. The curtains were drawn; mail was piled up on the stoop, frankly looked sort of abandoned. I pulled out a cigarette and puffed away as I went down around the corner and then counted the backs of the town houses until I found the right one. There was a small, rusted metal gate set in the wall, I looked back and forth, no one was around, the gate was unlocked, so eased it open and stuck my head in. Right to the left of the gate was the place – what they called a bungalow was really a small shed. Might have been a horse stall at one time, but at some point someone added a regular door, some windows and this place looked as beat down as the main house. I decided to have a closer look. I peered in through the front window; saw a bed, door leading into a bathroom, a small table. The place looked clean, dry, and it could be mine.

 

“May I help you young man?” a lady’s voice said as I spun around. Somebody’s grandma was standing 10 feet behind me, looking me up and down. She was dressed like she had just come from church, which made me self-conscious with how I looked right then. Luckily she went on, “Damndest thing. You the first one that’s actually come out to see my cottage. Can’t get them past the front door once they hear it’s in the back. I know, I know, it’s not much, but my Henry, well he built it good and strong. It stays warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and well, I got more room already than I can use, so figured why not help someone out a little.” Her smile reminded me of the way my momma used to smile before…back when…oh hell.

 

“Yes Ma’am, I’m new…newish to town and well…” hell what do I say. She waved her hand, “Go on in, take a look.” I opened the door, cautious not to get my dirty sneakers on the small area rug and looked around. There was no kitchen of any sort, just what I had seen from the window, but like I said, when you got nothing, this was all I dreamed for right then. The old lady excitedly gave me the grand tour, pointing out every little bit of love her husband Henry had put into making her little cottage, which she used to use to paint in before the arthritis took hold. I was lost in my thoughts when she asked again, “So you interested? Can be yours if you want it.”

 

I patted my pocket, I had enough cash on hand for the first month and more back in the chip bag in the ground, but what if that was all I got for a while? My only hope was if the freak daddies came through. “Umm, I do, I really do. I need a place something bad, but…well…It may be a couple more days before I have enough money…and…” She waved her hand, “Hush, no problem at all. Tell you what. You got a dollar? Give me a dollar for the deposit and I will hold it for you until you come back. How’s that sound?”

 

I couldn’t help but smile. Then my fear hit me like a hammer on an anvil so I blurted out, “I don’t sell dope and none of that shit, or run with the gangs, but I am…well I…I like guys… so if I had friends over it might be a guy – no big party or nothing – but just a friend, a buddy I know…I…” The old lady laughed, “Honey, I appreciate you telling me all that. I really do. That’s good. All good. And frankly having a nice man like yourself back here with your friends will make me feel safer. I look forward to meeting him.”

 

I was on fucking Cloud-9 when I got back on the subway. Could this happen? Could a down and out thug fucker like me get a head a little? I had pictures swimming in my head of me and Lil’Petey in the old lady’s cottage. I smiled. I had never thought about being with a guy like that before – fucking ass yeah – but not like together together. But that shit felt right.

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Part 4: I was on fucking Cloud-9 when I got back on the subway. Could this happen? Could a down and out thug fucker like me get ahead a little? I had pictures swimming in my mind of me and Lil’Petey in the old lady’s cottage. I smiled. I had never thought about being with a guy like that before – fucking ass yeah – but not like together together. But that shit felt right. I had a bounce in my step and a hunger in my balls as I walked into the ABS, flashed my membership card and a big fucking smile to the owner, stepped to the end of the counter and asked, “Any potential business in back?” The owner nodded his head yes, gazed at my stiff dick straining my jeans, licked his lips, and I smiled. “You wanna feel it?” I asked, “Show me your hole, right here, right now.” The ABS owner looked around nervously as I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my freeballing meat. My shaft was thick with sweat and he could smell it. Without another word he unbuttoned his pants, pulled his white shorts down and grunted as I popped the head of my dick raw into his ass right there at the check out counter. “FEEL THAT AIDS-BONE DRIPPING? YEAH? YOU WANT THAT? DEEPER LIKE THAT? WELL LATER WHEN I COME BACK THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU GOT FOR ME TO GET THAT HOLE WRECKED AGAIN.” I then yanked my dick out, he yelped, I laughed, lit a cigarette and walked into the back where the video arcade was and left the ABS owner with his hole twitching. Always got to keep them wanting more and now I needed to do more than survive day to day. I had to make things right to get my new home.

 

I did a quick round of the booths, avoided the trolls and the wall hangers who I knew were in as much need as me. I was on my second cigarette and fighting with my boner when the pretty boy showed up. He made a beeline straight for me, flashed a handful of cash and goodies, and 30 seconds later his shorts were down and his head was banging against the plywood walls as he begged me to stop pounding his hole and I ordered him to shut his faggy mouth and take my dick. The pretty boy’s body was flat against the wall when I filled him with nutt and as he slid off my shaft and thanked me profusely and told me how good a fuck I was, I lit a cigarette and tried to ignore him. That is until I heard something about making $500.

 

“…..and you know we get into some freaky shit. He’s a total Wall Street type with some fancy loft in Soho or some shit. I dress up for him, leather, lace, whatever he wants if he has the cash and shit. You know? So anyways he was asking if he could watch me get fucked sometime. I told him about you – ALL ABOUT – you. He said it would be hot to watch some n… well a black thug guy fuck me like a dirty whore. I told him $500. I was thinking we split it like 60/40 – right? Good shit?” the pretty boy prattled on. I slammed him back against the wall, drove two long fingers into his pussy chute and started digging around with my nails as he gasped. Time to negotiate. I pressed my left arm across the back of his neck and made my counter. “I get $500, you get the best dick of your life, and a chance to get it again in the future.”

 

Five minutes later we were walking to this dive bar where pretty boy said his Wall Street dude would be - where this dude was every afternoon trying to pick up the youngest and cutest boys he could tempt. Must be fucking nice to have those kind of hours. I don’t do bars, and anyways, looking as rough as I did knew I could get my ass kicked right out. The plan was this – I would wait in back in the alley, pretty boy would go in, find Wall Street dude, bring him out, then business would be done.

 

The shade of the alley was a welcome relief and besides the rats, piles of garbage, and typical NYC piles of shit lying around, the only other presence was two Asian guys sitting beside a propped open door peeling carrots and cutting up vegetables – fucking crates of them. They eyed me, I eyed them, then took up a spot on a wall about half way down the alley and lit up a cigarette. I looked around. Between the shadows from the buildings and piles of trash and debris, lots of places to fuck back here. Good. If Wall Street wanted to see how a thug got down, this was it. Grimey street fucking at its best. Hard dick, willing hole, deep breeding.

 

About 10 minutes went by, someone banged on a door a building away, banged again, then the door popped open and promptly knocked over a pile of plastic buckets. Pretty boy walked out, looked around, followed by a white dude, middle aged, fancy suit – Mr. Wall Street. They eyed the Asian guys who were still prepping their veggies, came down to me, and pretty boy – who clearly had been doing more than just saying hi in the bar – slurred, “Here’s … here’s... fuck what’s your name?” he asked me. I ignored him and turned to Wall Street. “Whatcha looking for man?” I asked. I wanted to hear it from him. He looked at pretty boy, then me, and said, “I want to watch you fuck him. Hard. Rape him like..like….” I filled in the blank, “The mouthy little princess that he is?” Wall Street chuckled, “Yes, exactly. He likes his ass smacked, bruised, and more. You think you can handle that?”

 

This dude was funny. I held out my hand, he set $300 in it and started to hand $200 to pretty boy. I said, “NO!” and pointed at my palm. Wall Street smiled, gave me the rest and then I added, “$200 more and you can take pictures/vid with your phone, but not my face. I get to confirm after and will delete it if you do.” Wall Street smiled, “What if I want him to suck me while you fuck him?” he asked. I shrugged, “Bonus for you. No charge.” Game. Set. Match.

 

We shifted closer to the building, melding into the shadows. Wall Street unzipped his dick and stuffed pretty boy’s mouth. I unzipped my pants, Wall Street’s eyes got nice and big and I made a mental note, then I yanked pretty boy’s short’s down and his cries were muffled in Wall Street’s balls as I dry fucked his hole – raw, rough, deep, and hard and started whacking his ass with both hands. Well he still had my nutt from earlier up there I guessed, so no spit necessary, and if not, too bad for him. I pulled all the way out slammed back in liking how his dry hole scraped my dick. Wall Street took vid and pics of the mouth on his dick, my monster dick stretching the pink hole, and pretty boy being gutted out like street trash. After about 10 minutes of brutal fucking at both ends pretty boy started crying, shaking, Wall Street held him tight and I continued to long dick him. I could tell from his scrunched up face Wall Street was close and when pretty boy started choking I knew he was getting a neck full of cum. As Wall Street finished he pulled out of pretty boy’s mouth, I yanked out of his ass – without nutting – and pretty boy dropped to the dirty pavement gasping and whining.

 

I stepped around pretty boy’s crumpled form, Wall Street took a step back, my dick was wet and slime covered and I pointed to it and said, “Is that what you wanted to see? You trying to get this now? Want to see what it feels like to get my bone?” Pretty boy was back on his feet and blabbering as Wall Street took another step back, almost lost now to the shadows. “Get the fuck away!” I snarled at pretty boy, who hiked his shorts up, wiped the tears and snot sniffles across his face, and took off down the alley.

 

“I think you need a daddy who can take charge,” I told Wall Street as my grimey dick edged across his clean and pressed suite leaving a trail of filth. “I think you sit in a big fancy office all damn day, ordering bitches around, then come here, find more bitches to do your bidding. What you really need is to know how it feels to be the bitch. I ain’t no faggy little dicked fucker playing at this game. This is real thug shit. Real fucking. Just you and me and yours ain’t the first cherry I’ve busted.”

 

Wall Street’s body shook with excitement. His mind was a little slower. “I…I…I’ve never been fucked, well not never...but not like, I….. How much?” Yes cock hungry bitch lives in all you motha-fuckas! “Whatchu-got?” I asked. He pulled out a fancy leather wallet edged in silver, spread it open, started to finger some bills then shook his head and just handed the whole thing to me. I laughed, that’s right, be a submissive whore for daddy’s AIDS Bone. I gripped the wad, emptied the wallet, put two $20s back in so he could get where he had to get, handed it back and pointed at my dick.

 

“May I suck it first?” Wall Street asked. In reply I pushed him hard, his back hit the brick wall, I stepped closer, turned him around, bear hugged him with my left arm as I undid his belt with my right hand, then his pants, and then he took the ‘frisk me officer’ position against the wall with hands up and out. “Wait, wait, wait,” Wall Street said. He stepped back, reached into his suit coat pocket, pulled out a string of condoms, and handed them to me. I took them, tore one open, tossed the empty packet at his feet and made a SNAPPING noise with the one I pulled as he resumed the sacrificial position.

 

This was going to hurt him more than me. I spit on my hand, fingered his tight fucking hole, he winced, moaned, I slid my nail sharp side in, he inhaled, I sawed back and forth like a lumber jack, cutting a trail through the forest. I spit some more and hacked a wad of phlegm from deep in my lungs for extra slipperiness. I clamped my hand over his mouth to muffle his screams – he would scream – and body slammed him against the brick wall as I drove my raw dick up his cherry hole. Wall Street cried out, his body tensed, he stood on his tippey toes like a ballerina as he tried to run from the dick. You don’t run from the dick! My anger came back. My need to breed. My desire burned through like an inferno. Every spasm of his body, every muffled cry, every twisting of his guts as I raw dicked him spurred me on.

 

I was ready to blast and one last, deep thrust and I leaned in and snarled, “TAKE MY AIDS BONE DICK BITCH. I’VE WRECKED THAT CUNT NOW FOR MY DIRTY CUM…THAT’S IT…YOUR PUSSY IS MILKING EVERY DROP RIGHT OUT OF MY BALLS…MILK IT…TAKE DADDY’S NUTT…”

 

I pulled my dick out, wiped it clean on the back of his suit, and tucked it away. Wall Street was like pretty boy now, gasping and fucked silly. HA!

 

His shame, pain, confusion showed all over his face as did his cock pig hunger. That’s right. I just fucking stealth raped his ass raw in a dirty alley and the kinky motha-fucka was hooked. I took him to the edge of his world and beyond. “Give me your business card,” I ordered. Wall Street pulled up his pants, fumbled around, pulled out a card and handed it to me. “When do you want the dick?” I asked. His reply was like a girl who lost her dolly, “Did…did you fuck me without a condom?” I hit him on the left side of his jaw with a soft tap right-hook. His mouth gaped, his eyes got wide, I stood toe to toe with him, looked down, and spat on his Wall Street face. “You know I did. You can feel my hot cum burning those guts up right now can’t you? You also know you want more. So I will ask only one more time, when do you want the dick?”

 

Same time tomorrow I was scheduled to be back in the alley and Wall Street planned to come with full pockets for another breeding. I could tell as he looked at me, my ribs poking out, my stomach in need of food, my dirty self, that he was disgusted and so turned on at the same fucking time his mind could not process. That was the key. That was what the fuckers would pay for. I could offer them something pretty boy and the other trade could not.

 

I lit a cigarette, patted my stuffed pockets, and started down the alley. The younger Asian guy was still sitting beside the open door peeling vegetables. “Hey mister,” he said. I stopped. I was not old enough to be a mister. A daddy yes, but not a mister. He continued, “That was like fucking amaze-balls fucking hot, fucking oh hell damn like wild crazy porn shit!” When did Asian dudes start speaking with a Valley Girl accent? I just looked at him and he asked, “Can, can you go again? I mean. Can I….?” Yeah I could fuck again, but right now I needed to see Lil’Petey.

 

A quick convo and the Asian guy told me he was a law student at Columbia, this was his parents’ restaurant, he was a total cock pig and knew he could milk my dick good. I told him I would let him try the next day after Wall Street, but nothing in life was free. As a down payment, he loaded me up with a fucking grocery bag full of food. Egg Foo Young, Sweet and Sour Pork, and tons more shit and said he could give me a bag of food every day he worked – which was most days - as payment. Deal.

 

I made my way back to the trap house but stopped and chatted up with one of the bums who often slept curled under the end of the front porch. “Hey man, got some food if you want it. Also appreciate if you can make a racket if you see or hear anyone else come through the fence to the back? Cool – thanks.” I got around to the back and side where Lil’Petey’s cardboard shanty was, set the bag down, and smiled as I could hear him humming to himself. I pushed the bag of food ahead of me, scooted in after, pulled the plastic down behind me and eyed what was on tonight’s menu.

 

There was Lil’Petey, his legs pulled back, his bruised hole winking at me in hello – welcome – hop on board = all you eat smorgasbord buffet. In 30 seconds flat I was naked and banging his shit out as Lil’Petey hummed a little tune in time to the fucking he was getting from my Wreckin-AIDs-Bone.

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