Boys Avenue

Author's Note:

Sorry it took so long to upload anything new. I was working on a story when my computer crashed [Always back up your work!] I'm working on other stories, but I wrote this one just to remind myself that I could finish one. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always helpful.

*****

"I'm not a prostitute," I told myself as I rounded the corner and began to walk the length of Avenue B, also known as "Boys Avenue". I was just horny, and I had been told that this was where you go to find guys to have sex with- at a price.

Being on the verge of homelessness, I didn't have many suitors, and certainly didn't have the money to pay for sex. So, I devised a plan to work Avenue B, and have some consensual sex with a few strangers who were as hard up as I was. I had no plan to charge any of them, so I wasn't a prostitute. I was just horny.

Beginning where the short street dead ended, Avenue B looked deserted. I walked uncertainly down the black topped street until I noticed a guy hanging out on a well-lit street corner. I recognized him from my days of living in the city shelter, but I didn't know his name or much about him. All I really knew was how attractive he was.

He had dark brown hair and soft brown eyes that looked sad and hopeless. He was a large man, with broad shoulders. I only saw him when we were waiting to be processed for a bed for the night. I don't even know if he stayed the night, or if he was just in line for dinner. He had the look of a man who preferred to beat the shit out of fags like me, so I only stole occasional glances his way. Now, here we both were, and I wondered why he was there, what his motives for being in such a place might be. I just didn't know if I had the balls to ask him.

As I approached, I saw a look I took for disgust cross his face, and planned to just keep walking without acknowledging him, but the closer I got, the more aware I was that he was watching me.

"I know you," he said. I was surprised to see him smiling at me. The street light cast him in a glow that highlighted his dark features.

"You do?" I asked, pleased that he might have noticed me, even as I stole my glances at him.

"Yeah," he nodded, "You used to stay at the shelter, didn't you? Only I haven't seen you around in a while."

"I got lucky on a long day labor ticket, so I got a room at a cheap hotel," I explained, "I've been doing good at keeping up with my rent with subsequent jobs."

"So, what are you doing out here?"

"I ran out of luck and the jobs dried up," I lied. In truth, I had another two hundred dollars saved up to cover my rent for an extra week, if need be. I was conscious of the fact that the unpredictability of day labor jobs and rainy days were the deciding factors of whether or not I kept a roof over my head. "Why are you out here? You never struck me as the kind of guy who would do this sort of thing."

"Well, sometimes you have to do things you normally wouldn't, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I understand that." I looked up and down the street, aware there had been no passing cars, even as other guys began to appear on street corners further up the street.

"I'm Houston," he told me, extending his big hand to me. I was well aware that Houston was giving me his street name. Most homeless people do that. I reasoned he was probably from Houston, hence the moniker, just as mine reflected the color of my hair.

"I'm Red," I told him, taking his hand in a brief handshake. "What are you selling?" I asked curiously.

"Cock, and nothing but," Houston answered, "I'll give it to you any way you want, but that's all I'm selling. What about you?"

"Oh, I'm gay. So, I'll give up anything a guy wants."

"Triple threat," he said, wincing, "And you're new meat, so you're probably going to be popular tonight."

"I hope so," I told him, starting to move away, walking further down the street, "If I make enough, maybe I'll come back and do some buying of my own."

"Fifty for a blow job, a hundred for a fuck," he told me. My mouth watered with the knowledge that I had enough in my room to get the full treatment, if I was stupid enough to give it to him.

"I'll keep that in mind," I called back to him as I went in search of my own corner. I had no idea of what I was doing. I hoped that all I had to do was show up.

A couple of blocks away him, I stopped and lit a cigarette. I was about half finished with it when a middle-aged Latino in a compact pulled up to the curb. He leaned across the front seat to roll down the window manually.

"Hey," I greeted him as I leaned into the window.

"You give blow jobs?" he asked. I was surprised at how straight forward he was.

"Sure, I'll suck you off," I told him, "But I'm no prostitute." I got into the car with him. "I'm just horny, and I figured this was the easiest way of getting some dick."

"Well, I've got some dick for you," he told me as he pulled away and turned the corner. He stopped at a red light and unfastened his pants, pulling his thick brown cock into view.

"Oooh, foreskin," I cooed delightedly at the sight of the uncut six inches that stood from his lap. I took it in hand and played with the foreskin a bit before lowering my head into his lap. He readjusted himself in his seat to give me better access, then took off down the street. I had always wanted to give car head, and now was my chance.

I took the head into my mouth and teased his foreskin with my tongue before sliding my lips down his shaft. I sucked him hard, pulling his foreskin up and down over the head of his cock as I sucked him as deep into my mouth as I could in such an awkward position.

"Oh, that's good, baby," he whispered, "Suck my dick."

I was just getting into a comfortable position when his cum erupted into my mouth. I worked hard to swallow all of his load, then cleaned his cock of anything I might have missed.

"Very nice," I told him as I sat back into my seat.

"Thanks", he said, leaving his cock exposed as he circled around to return me to my corner. "I really needed that. My wife is pregnant, and she doesn't like sucking dick."

"So, you went looking for a guy to suck you off?"

"It would be cheating if I had a girl do it." He reasoned.

In no time, we were back where we started, and I was crawling out of the car. He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, stuffing a folded bill into my hand. I was going to protest, but decided he was doing it for his own reasons, knowing that I wasn't charging him. I didn't look at it until he sped away. It was a twenty.

"Easiest money I ever made," I told myself, "And the most fun I've had working. Maybe there's something to this line of work I should reconsider."

I stuffed the twenty into a pocket and looked down the street. Houston was still there, waiting for some lucky son of a bitch to pick him up.

It wasn't long before a middle-aged white guy in a late model pick up pulled along the curb.

"Get in," he told me as he opened the door for me. I did as he instructed and sat quietly in the seat while he drove away. "I'm just looking for someone to play with," he told me, "I'll pay you well, but you have to do exactly as I say. Understand?"

"I understand," I answered him obediently.

He drove to a motel a little way up the strip, parked and killed the engine. Without a word, he hopped out of the truck and headed for one of the rooms. I quickly followed suit.

"Strip," he commanded after shutting the door. "These are the rules. I only want to play with you, have my way with you, and you are not going to get hard while I do it. Semi-erect is okay, but no full erections. Do you understand?"

"I'm not really charging..."

"And no talking. No offense, but I don't like your voice. You sound too much like a girl."

I finished shedding my clothes, feeling humiliated at the slur against my voice, despite my own dislike of it. Standing before him, naked as the day I was born, he walked around me, checking out the goods.

"I love you young, skinny guys," he told me, talking as if he were critiquing a painting. "So natural, so untouched by ego." He ran his fingers across my flat chest, stopping to play with one of my nipples. "You have large areolas. Has anyone ever told you that?" I opened my mouth to answer then shut it again and shook my head no. "Well done," he commented, offering me a smile as he rolled my nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, shocking my body with little jolts of pleasure. "Look at how large your erect nipple is." I didn't look.

He took a step back and dropped his pants, revealing a cock, about seven inches, like mine, but thicker- so thick it looked abnormal. I tore my eyes away, remembering that I wasn't allowed to get hard, certain that the continued sight of his thick dick, combined with my own horniness, would do the trick. I started counting the ceiling tiles instead.

"I've never played with a redhead before," he told me, "I'd ask if it was natural, but I can see for myself that the carpet matches the drapes." This, for some reason made me feel humiliated. I never liked it when I was hit on by a guy simply because he had a thing for red heads

He stood close to me, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck as he took my balls and limp dick into one hand and began rolling them around in his palm. I could tell he was slowly jacking his cock with his other hand. I became fascinated with the ugly pattern of the bedspread on the bed behind him.

"Spread your legs," he whispered breathlessly into my ear, "Give yourself to me."

I did as he said, spreading my legs wide, as he stepped back and lowered down to his knees. He continued to play with my balls as he moved in and took my dick into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

This was a problem for me. I had never had a blow job before. All of my ex boyfriends were straight identified bisexuals who didn't even acknowledge that I had a dick, much less sucked it. I started reciting the alphabet backwards, determined not to get hard. When I managed that, I did the same with the Greek alphabet. I memorized the Greek alphabet on a rainy day spent at the library when I was homeless.

Omega... psi... chi...phi...tau... upsilon... no, that's not right. Upsilon, then tau. Start over. Omega... psi... chi...

He released my balls and traced a finger back along my taint, searching for my ass hole. Oh, shit, he's playing with my hole, rubbing around it with his fingers, like they're circling a drain. Stealthily, he slips a finger into my ass, slowly finger fucking me while he slobs on my dick, now semi-hard and threatening a to go full boner any second. I try not to pay attention to what he's doing to me.

Theta... eta... zeta... epsilon...

He continued to torture me with the pleasures of my sexuality, expecting me to ignore them all, for what seemed an eternity while he pleasured himself at his own pace. I must have started over on the Greek alphabet a hundred times. Finally, he pulled away from me, stood up and tucked his big, spent cock back into his pants.

"You can dress now," he said to me calmly, his voice cold and empty.

I pulled my clothes back on in a hurry, aware that I was now beyond horny and seriously considering paying Houston to ravage me. Together, we left the room and he drove me back to Avenue B, letting me off at the end of the street.

"Two hundred enough?" he asked me. My jaw dropped. His offer left me speechless. I might not have been charging, but I sure as hell wasn't going to turn down that kind of money. I was horny, not stupid. I nodded and accepted the money he offered me.

I returned to my corner with a month of rent now in my possession, but I still needed to find someone who would fuck my brains out and I wasn't leaving until I found him.

I lit a cigarette and waited. An older man stopped, but I waved him on. If I was out here for the money, I probably would have gone with him just to see what was up, but I was looking to get laid, so I could afford to be picky.

I saw Houston, still standing on his corner. He must have noticed me looking at him because he waved. With my earnings, I knew I could afford a night with Houston I'd probably never forget. I wondered if he'd been picked up yet.

Nervously, I walked toward him, debating on whether or not I would actually pay him for sex. He was so handsome, and I had spent so much time in the last few months wondering about him, I was sure it made sense to take a chance on him. On the other hand, I sort of knew him, and paying him for sex seemed weird.

"How are you fairing?" he asked as I crossed the intersection to join him on his corner. "I've noticed you had a couple of bites. I figured you would. Like I said, you have the look."

"Yeah, I got picked up, but they weren't what I came out here looking for."

"How do you mean?" A late model Mercedes pulled up with a handsome young driver. He was blond and neatly groomed. The clothing he was wearing probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He waved for one of us, but we didn't know which.

"This would be for you, I'm guessing," I told Houston.

Houston walked over to the car and leaned into the window. There was a brief exchange, then he turned and walked toward me.

"He's here for you," he said with a smile, "Says he knows you."

I wandered toward the car, cautiously and nervously, and peered in at the driver through the window. Up close, I still had no idea who he was, although there did seem to be some faint sense of familiarity. I just didn't know who he was, or who he was pretending to be.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked, drinking in his handsome features.

"Hey, Devon," he smiled at me, "what are you doing out here?"

He called me by my real name. He did know me, but I was still at a loss.

"It's me," he exclaimed, expecting me to recognize him, "It's Mark. We used to go to school together."

There was only one Mark I knew in school, and that was Mark Warner, and I barely knew him. He was Mr. Popularity- class president, Football quarterback, son of one of the wealthiest families that still sent their children to public school. Searching his face again, I recognized him immediately.

"Mark Warner?" I asked incredulously. Mark was one of the lesser of my tormenters in high school. He used to enter every class we shared with an exclamation of "Devon, baby!", insinuating that we were a couple. Our classmates were always amused when he did it. At first, I found it annoying, then grew to enjoy it, responding in turn, "Hey, stud!", fantasizing that the others were wondering if there might actually be something going on between us. There wasn't, of course. Those exchanges were the only interaction I ever had with him.

"The one and only." His smile grew bigger, revealing a set of perfectly aligned pearly whites. "So, what are you doing out here?"

"Funny story, actually," I started, wondering why he was on Avenue B at this time of night, "I was horny and thought I'd come out here and see if I might find someone who was equally horny to fuck my brains out. But I'm not having much luck, even though I'm not charging or anything."

"Uh-huh" he grunted thoughtfully, taking a moment to let this set in by staring out ahead of him for a moment. I wondered what he was thinking, then he turned to look at me again, flashing that million-dollar smile. "That sounds like the most elaborate plan I've ever heard for someone to get laid. But you always were your own man." He reached over and opened the door. "Get in, and let's see if we can't solve your dilemma together."

I slid into the front seat of the Mercedes and waved good-bye to Houston, who gave me a half-assed wave in return. I buckled my seat belt at Mark's prompting, and we sped off into the night.

"So, do you often pick up guys on Avenue B?" I asked teasingly.

"Well, I don't make it a habit," he laughed, "But I have been known to occasionally come around, looking for a quickie. I just broke up with a girl I had been seeing for awhile about three months ago. So, yeah, I've been picking guys up the last few weeks."

"You date women, but fuck guys on the side?" I didn't know if I liked this side of Mark, but I tried to keep my judgement of him to a minimum. I barely knew him, and it really wasn't any of my business.

"I date both men and women," he explained, "but I do prefer men." His hand slipped to mine, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm so glad I ran into you tonight. I had the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked, trying to mask my regret with a nervous laugh, "It would have been nice to know I wasn't alone in that rat race."

"You were alone?" he asked, "I heard rumors that you were giving head to any horned-up guy who asked."

"That's not true," I told him, "I didn't even lose my virginity until after I was twenty-one. Unlike you. What was the name of that stuck up cheerleader you were banging?"

"Melissa?" he asked.

"That's it. Melissa Cartwright. God, I hated that bitch. No offense."

"None taken. She was a bitch, but I was young and had some things about myself I didn't have figured out. It was just easier to date who everyone thought I should date, and do what everyone figured I was doing. I'm just glad she didn't turn up pregnant. She was sure dropping hints about getting married and having a big family all through our senior year."

"Now you've come full circle and have the chance you wouldn't allow yourself before."

"Thank God for second chances," he smiled, giving my hand another squeeze, "And I'm going to take that second chance like it's my last."

We pulled into the drive way of a house in a middle-class neighborhood. It wasn't the kind of place I expected to find Mark Warner living, but it was still better than the roach hotel I was staying in. We got out of the car, and he waited for me to join him before ushering me across the yard to the door, his hand touching my lower back as if I might try to run away.

Mark fumbled with the keys nervously, then managed to open the door. Inside, he flipped on the lights to reveal a house that was almost completely gutted. The walls had been stripped to their bear studs and the floors were covered with sawdust and litter.

"Wow, you really know how to impress a guy," I remarked sarcastically.

"Now you know why my last relationship failed," he told me with a smirk on his face, "She wanted me to settle down, and establish roots. I usually just crash in the house I'm working on until I have it finished, then move into the next while the last is on the market. It's not something that's going to make me rich, but it keeps me busy, and I don't really need to worry about money."

"Still living off your parents?" I asked foolishly. Flipping houses might not make him rich, but it had to pay something.

"Something like that," he answered, his face growing dark with memory, "My mother died when I was three from breast cancer, and my father died shortly after I graduated high school. Heart attack. I inherited everything."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." My parents were still alive, but they cut me off and turned their backs on me when I came home with my first boyfriend. Six months later, I was homeless.

"Let's take our minds off all this," he said, moving in to give me a kiss so tender, his lips barely brushed against mine. I responded by pulling him into a deeper kiss, crushing my lips against his, opening my mouth to his tongue.

Mark tugged at my shirt, relinquishing his hungry mouth from mine just long enough to pull it over my head. My fingers worked stealthily at unbuttoning his dress shirt, which he slipped out of while we continued to kiss. He pulled me into his strong arms, our bare chests pressed together as he hugged me, running his hand up and down my back before slipping down to squeeze my ass with both hands. I pushed up onto my tip toes, my arms braced around his neck.