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Spring BreakThe dorm was almost empty. The few friends I had made during myfreshman year had gone home or to Florida for the traditional springbreak revelry.My room mate in the dorm had gone home to Long Island. Going home toWyoming was out of the question for me since my parents were scrimpingto pay my college expenses and couldn't afford plane fare. My roommate invited me to his house for the week but I declined. His constantarrogance and subtle insults about living on a ranch in "Indianterritory" was tolerable only in small doses. Spending a week with himwould be more than I could endure.Months before, I had looked forward to the peace and quiet of ChristmasBreak after a grueling period of classes and far more homework than Ihad expected. Being alone at Christmas time was difficult but I caughtup on my homework and even got a little ahead in the assigned reading.I spent some time, in spite of the cold weather, as a tourist,exploring a rich variety of the big city attractions -- at least thoseI could afford. Spring break, being shorter and warmer promised to bemore enjoyable.By Wednesday, however, boredom crept in. I had finished all my courseassignments and could do no more until the profs laid on more. I hadeven read for pleasure a couple of books that I hadn't had time to getto. What would I do that evening? I had a wicked thought. I would dosomething that I had always wanted to do but never had the opportunity.I took the subway down to Times Square. At that time, many years ago,42nd street hosted a number of adult book stores and small theatersshowing X-rated films. I intended to see a porno movie but afterroaming around for a long time, I saw from the marquees and postersthat all the films featured women, sometimes servicing men andsometimes each other. That's not what I wanted.I had known for a long time that I was different. I was not attractedto girls and what I wanted was to find someone like me who was alsodifferent. I had researched what little there was to be found abouthomosexuality in the public library. (The school library had been"cleansed" and this was long before the Internet.) I therefore knewthere were men out there like me although, like me, almost all of themhid their true identity from the public. One day, I hoped, I wouldfind one.Having given up on the movie theaters, I ventured into an adult bookstore. Perhaps I could find something there to interest me. Uponentering, a raspy voice challenged my presence. "How old are you,k**?"I looked up and found the source of the voice. A grizzly old manseated on a platform behind a high counter was glaring at me."Eighteen," I replied."Don't look it," he growled. "Lemme see yur ID."I pulled out my Wyoming driver's license and showed it to him. Hestudied it through his bifocals, seemed to concentrate on doing thesimple math, but finally snarled, "OK. Yur eighteen. Wyoming, huh?Never met anybody from Wyoming."He handed the license back to me. I had become accustomed to people'sreaction when they learned where I lived. I had even developed bothpolite and sarcastic rejoinders depending on the situation but I justtook the license and walked down a narrow aisle in the crowded shop.After ten minutes, it became clear that I would not find what I waslooking for. There were some dildos and other toys that I foundfascinating but the prices were unbelievably high. The magazines werealso pricey but I would have paid for one if it was what I was lookingfor. I walked out of the store disappointed and frustrated. I roamedaround Times Square for a while just to kill time and then took thesubway back to 116th Street.Back in the dorm, I showered off the city grim. Taking advantage ofthere being virtually no one in the dorm, I leisurely jerked off in theshower before returning to my room. It was still early, not quite ten,but I climbed into bed and fell asleep wishing I had found what I waslooking for downtown.The next day was warm. I put on gym shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakersand walked over to Riverside Park to enjoy the weather and a good book.I hoped that a little reading would dispel my loneliness. I found agrassy area, stripped off my shirt to restore my tan, and laid down onmy stomach to read.Several minutes later, I was startled by a voice right next to me."That must be a very good book," it said.I looked up and saw a teenager sitting on the grass next to me. He hadthe complexion, jet-black hair, and features of a Latino. He wore noshirt, only baggy shorts and worn sneakers with no socks. But it washis face that captured my attention. Dark eyes sparkled from underarched brows and a half-smile that signaled a friendly nature.He had dropped a very worn gym bag on the ground and said, "I called toyou twice, mister. But you didn't answer.""Sorry," I apologized. "I guess I was wrapped up in my book." Iturned the book over, laying it open to keep my place and with thecover showing.He glanced at the book and asked, "You like mysteries?""Once in a while, yes," I responded while wondering why he hadinterrupted me."I do, too," he grinned. "But I don't get much of a chance to read.""And why's that?" I asked.His expression turned suddenly sour. "Too busy," he said as he casthis eyes to the ground."Busy?" I asked. "What keeps you so busy?"He stalled, pulling up few blades of grass and rolling them in hisfingers. "Whatever I can do to earn a few dollars. That's why I cameover to talk to you. But I see I'm disturbing you so I'll leave youalone."He stood up to leave but my curiosity had been aroused. "Wait," Isaid. "You don't have to go. In fact, I would enjoy having someone totalk to. Sit down."He sat down, cross-legged this time. I couldn't help but see up theleg of his baggy shorts. He had no underwear and the tip of an uncutcock was plainly visible. I quickly averted my eyes, a habit I hadpracticed for a long time, but the image remained in my mind, summoningthoughts I couldn't suppress. I became aware of his body: thin but notskinny, firm but not muscular, and dark nipples contrasting with histawny skin. The young man wouldn't turn heads but was neverthelesshandsome.Although I had tried to be discreet, the length of my gaze and myfailure to say anything must have revealed güvenilir bahis siteleri my thoughts because hesmiled and said, "Like what you see, mister?"His question threw my mind into a spin. I groped frantically forsomething to say that would explain or excuse my thoughtless anddangerous behavior. Nothing came to mind so I stammered, "I was justadmiring your nice-looking body, that's all." I immediately regrettedsaying that. It's not the sort of thing one says to another man, muchless a stranger.But the young man raised the stakes by asking "Want to see more?" andpulled the leg of his shorts back to give me an unobstructed view ofhis cock that hung invitingly across a pendulant ball sack.Alarms sounded in my head. The young man was obviously coming on tome. If I accepted his implied offer, I would reveal for the first timeever that I was queer. (The term, "gay," had not yet come into commonusage.) Instinctively, I retreated by saying, "What makes you thinkI'd be interested in seeing more?""Hunch," he said. "Maybe hope. When I saw you laying here reading, Iliked what I saw. So I called to you and then came over. Then I sawhow you looked me over. I've had a lot of experience. I've come toknow when a guy is interested in me. I think you are. Am I wrong?"I was not ready to admit my interest but I was tempted. My resistancefaded quickly when he cunningly hiked up his pants leg and brieflyfondled himself."Nice cock," I said without thinking and suddenly realized that I hadconfirmed his suspicion.He quickly got down to business. "I can give you a blow job. Or youcan fuck me. I like your looks so I'll give you a bargain rate.""Is that how you earn your money?" I asked. "By selling your body toanybody with cash?"I didn't mean to insult him but he obviously took it that way. "Hey,"he said defiantly. "It's better than selling d**gs. My neighborhoodis full of dealers and junkies. I want no part of that. If I can makemen happy, isn't that better than ruining the lives of d**g addicts andrisking my own life at the same time?""I apologize," I said. "I didn't mean to insult you. I just didn'tknow what kind of life you faced. Forgive me?""Okay," he said. "But how about my offer? You wanna have some goodsex?"I did indeed want to have some good sex. I had wanted it for years.And this young man was not only willing but good looking. He wasfairly articulate and showed unusual initiative in approaching me.After the disappointment in Times Square the previous night, I didn'twant to pass up the opportunity for real sex. I would have preferredsex with someone other than a hustler but I may not have that chancefor who knows how long. I was assured of privacy in my dorm room so Iinquired, "How much?"He quoted a price and quickly added, "That's half of what I usuallycharge but you've got a sexy body.""I have a problem," I said regretfully. "I don't have any money tospare." I hated having to turn down his offer. Just looking at himmade me horny as hell."Too bad," he groaned. "I guess I'll have to find somebody else. Butthey won't be as good looking as you."I didn't want him to walk away. Even if I couldn't afford his price, Iwould enjoy the company of a handsome young man for a while. "The bestI can do is to buy you a good meal. Will you join me for lunch? I'dreally like the company."He looked at me as if a meal enticing but said, "I'm not giving you sexfor just a meal, mister!""I didn't mean it that way," I said. "The fact is, I'd like to havecompany for lunch ... with no obligation for sex. How about it?"The truth was that I wanted company -- someone to talk to -- but I alsowanted to find out more about why the young man was selling his body."Okay," he said. "I haven't had a good meal for a few days."It was then I realized that we could not talk about his life and"occupation" in a restaurant so I suggested, "How about we get a carry-out and come back here to the park for a picnic?""Sounds good," he said. "Most places won't serve me anyway because ofthe way I'm dressed. Some get downright mean about telling me toleave."We walked to a nearby McDonald's. At the door, he hesitated and said,"I don't think they'll let me in. I'll wait here.""If you want," I said. "What would you like?""You're buying, mister. You choose. Surprise me."I bought two big Macs, two large fries, a large drink, and an apple piefor him. I settled on a cheeseburger and a drink because I didn't haveenough cash for more.His eyes nearly popped when he saw the size of the sack I walked outwith but he made no comment. We returned to the park, found a shadyspot (It had gotten quite warm.), and settled ourselves down on thegrass. I opened the sack and divided its contents."That's all mine?" he asked incredulously. "Are you not hungry or areyou really broke?""Both," I said. The broke part was true. I was hungry but he neededfood more than I did.He devoured his food without stopping to talk, which seemed to confirmhis admission that he hadn't eaten for days. I nibbled on my sandwichand sipped at my drink while a thousand questions popped into my mind.What drove him to hustling? What kind of family did he have? Did helive on the streets and, if so, how did he cope?When he finally finished, he said, "Thanks, mister. I feel a lotbetter now. You're really nice to buy my lunch ... and not expectingsex, I mean.""Well," I said. "There's one thing you can do for me. I'm curiousabout why you do what you do. Would you tell me about yourself?"He gave me a curious expression that I couldn't interpret. I began toworry that I was prying into something he didn't want to talk about.But my concern was short-lived when he began to speak."You probably don't know what it's like living in public housing in theBronx," he began. "d**gs. Crime. Gangs. Poverty. Going to schoolwas the highlight of my day. At least it was reasonably safe. Thatis, until the k**s in school found out I was queer. I could live withthem calling me names but they started beating up on me. I dropped outof school. I couldn't tell my parents the real reason because theywould hate me, too, for being queer. So I told my folks I was joiningthe army and left.""Are you old enough to join the Army?" I asked. He looked no kaçak bahis more thansixteen years old."No. I'm s*******n. But it's easy to get fake ID. They tried to talkme out of it. I said I didn't want to end up like my brothers. I'vegot two older brothers. One is in prison for dealing d**gs. The otherwas killed before the cops could bust him. Mom was upset that I wasleaving but dad understood. He said he was proud of me for not beinglike my brothers." He paused before continuing. "He wouldn't be proudof me now if he knew what I'm doing.""So how long have you been on the street?" I asked."About three months," he replied. "The first week or two was the worstbut then I leaned how to attract men who want what I want. And I'm notbragging when I say I can give them some really terrific sex." Hepaused and looked at me as if to see whether the `really terrific sex'comment might entice me to pay his price.If only I had the money! I thought.His mood changed. He stared at the ground and asked, "Anything elseyou want to know about a queer whore-boy?""Hey!" I interrupted. "Don't talk about yourself that way. You'veobviously got courage to get out of a bad environment. You've gotinitiative to make it on your own. I can tell from just talking to youthat you're bright. And believe me, I don't condemn you for whatyou're doing."A half-grin crossed his face as he said, "Thanks, mister. Most peopletreat me like scum -- even my customers. You're not like that.""I'm still curious," I said. "Why do you hustle sex? Have you triedto get a regular job?"He laughed for the first time since we met. "Whose gonna hire as*******n-year-old high school drop-out?" he asked with aconfrontational tone. "I've tried a lot of places but the only onethat was half way interested was a greasy spoon café. They wanted adishwasher but sent me away because I didn't have a Social Securitynumber. Don't need that for what I do now. Besides ... I don't knowwhy I'm telling you this but I enjoy what I do. I like sex ... even ifthe customer is old or fat or drunk or stinks of cigarette smoke.""So you're happy doing what you do?He thought about that for a while and said, "Mostly. I really do likethe sex. I can't seem to get enough of it. But then..."He dropped his eyes to the ground again. I guessed that he didn't wantto talk about the down side of his work. However, I had him talkingabout his life and I still had a number of questions so I said, "Butthen what?"He looked at me. Was it my imagination or did he suddenly seem sad?"It's not all pleasure," he finally said. "I go hungry when I can'tfind a customer. Living on the street isn't like living with a family.And there's the occasional odd ball who gets off on kinky stuff likespanking or making me act like a ten-year-old. One guy even wanted toshave me to make me look like a little k**. I grabbed my clothes andran from that one. Most guys just want a blow job or to fuck me.That's the kind of sex I like."I felt terribly sorry for the young man. His problems with kinkycustomers didn't affect me nearly as much as his having to live on thestreet. That made me think of something."Do you ever spend a whole night with a customer and sleep in a realbed?""Twice," he replied. "Most guys just want a quickie and then I'm off,hoping to find another customer.""I don't have money but I can offer you a bed to sleep in. I live inthe dorm. My room mate is gone until Sunday night. You can stay in myroom for three nights. There's no obligation for sex. I just want togive you three nights of comfort. You'll be free to come and go as youplease but you'll have a bed to sleep in ... and a hot shower if youwant. How about it?""You don't want sex?" he asked in a tone of disbelief."I would love to have sex with you but that's not why I made the offer.It's not much but I'd simply like to do you a favor. And I would enjoyhaving company.""I'd like to, mister, but I'm supposed to meet one of my regularcustomers tonight.""Like I said, you're free to come and go as you like. Will you spendthe night with him?""Nah. All he wants is to undress me in the back of his van and jerk meoff. By that time, he's hard. He gives me a quick fuck, pays me, andsays goodbye.""Okay. Come with me to the dorm. You can shower. Change clothes ifyou like. I'm guessing you have clothes in your gym bag."He looked at me for a long time without speaking. I was about toencourage him further but he asked, "Why are you doing this?""I told you. I want to do you a favor. You're a good k** who's had atough time. Maybe I can make it easier for you ... at least for a fewnights of decent sleep.""Okay," he said.I took him to my dorm room. It was sparsely furnished but he wasimpressed with the books, the posters, and the clothes in the closet.I asked if he wanted to shower and he said that would be nice. I gavehim a towel, soap, and shampoo, and then said, "The dorm is almostempty but I think I'd better go with you in case someone finds astranger in the shower. I'll introduce you as my cousin who'svisiting. What's your name?""Jose Delgado.""Mine is Ray Simpson. You don't have to call me Mister any more."He took a very long, very hot shower and seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.Since there was no longer any need to conceal my sexual interests, Ididn't try to be discrete. I took full advantage of the opportunity tofeast my eyes on his sleek, firm body as he dried himself. He noticedmy admiring stare, grinned, and made a conscious effort to show me hismanly cock and balls. He even turned away from me and bent over to dryhis legs, showing me his firm ass and puckered hole. His exhibitiongave me an erection. I tried to hide it but he saw it anyway andlaughed, "You like what you see, Mister?""Yes," I said hoarsely. "Very much. But call me `Ray.' No moreMister. Okay?""Okay, Ray," he said as he faced me and took an unnecessary amount oftime to dry his crotch.As we walked back to my room, my promise of no sex haunted me. I hadbeen sincere in inviting him only for a few nights sleep in a real bedbut my resolve to keep my promise was fading. Lust was eroding myintegrity.In my room, I went to my half of the closet for some clean clothes.Jose dug through his gym bag for his. When I saw that his clothes illegal bahis werenot only dirty but threadbare and ragged. I said, "It looks like yourclothes have seen better days. I have some I don't need."I pulled out a pair of chino slacks from my closet, a tee shirt, asweat shirt, and two pair of socks from a drawer, and handed them tohim. "Take these. To keep. You'll look even more handsome in them."He looked at me. I was afraid I had insulted him with my offer. "Mineare sort of dirty, aren't they?""That's understandable," I said, trying to soften the criticism impliedby my suggestion.I thought I saw a tear in his eye as he looked at me and said, "Why areyou being so nice to a whore-boy?""STOP IT!" I exclaimed. "You're not a whore-boy. I've already toldyou. You're a young man who had the good sense to get out of a badenvironment ... who has the initiative to make it on your own ... whouses the talents you can to survive. Why am I being nice? Because Irespect you! There's not much I can do to help you except give you afew nights of comfort but you deserve that and more."He seemed startled at my emphatic tone and just stood looking at me.Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around my waist, laid his head on myshoulder, and cried. I returned his hug and held him tightly. Westood there with only the towels around our waists preventing full-body, skin-on-skin contact. Were it not for his tears and shudderingsobs, it would have been highly erotic. But at that moment, all I feltwas sympathy for a young man who no doubt had a lot of potential butwas the victim of both poverty and others' hatred of homosexuals.When he gained a little control of his emotions, he apologized forcrying. I assured him that it was okay for a man to cry and he shouldnot be ashamed of it. He seemed to settle down and I led him to overto sit on the edge of my bed. What came next took me completely bysurprise.He took off the towel from his waist and dropped it on the floor. Hetook off my towel and dropped it on top of his. He laid back down,pulling me down to lay beside him. He crawled on top of me and begankissing me. I wondered if it was just gratitude. My question wasanswered when he ground his crotch into mine. His motives may haveincluded gratitude but he seemed to want sex.I pushed his face away and said, "I promised you. You're not obligatedto have sex with me.""But I want it!" he exclaimed. "I want you. I've wanted you eversince I saw you in the park. This is not business like the others. Ilike you. I want to make you happy. I want to be happy too. Pleasedon't say no. Let me make love to you."I didn't need any more convincing. As a frustrated homosexual, I wasabout to lose my virginity. I had been propositioned by a streethustler but was in bed with a tragic young man who was demanding sex... not for money, not entirely out of appreciation for a small favor,but (I wanted to think) because a deeper bond had been formed betweenus.More than an hour later, after an experience that has persisted vividlyin my memory for decades, we broke our contended embrace and got out ofbed."Let's get some supper," I said. "Then you can go to your appointmentwith your customer.""That's all right," he said. "You bought me a big lunch. You don'thave to buy me supper, too.""Nonsense," I replied. "I have to eat anyway and I'd like to have thecompany of a handsome young man. Now let's get dressed."He gave me a hug and a kiss and said, "Thanks, Mister ... I meanthanks, Ray."My clothes were a little big for his small frame but they made a worldof difference in his appearance. He was a sexy as when he was naked.They seemed to make a difference in his attitude as well. As we walkeddown the hall, out of the dorm, and down the street to a diner, he heldhis head high and there was a new bounce in his step. The diner wassmall but it served good food in ample portions at a reasonable price.His delight at being able to enter a restaurant without fear of beingthrown out was obvious.As we ate, he had one question after another about my life on a ranch,about my family, about my classes, and my future plans. On the wayback to the dorm, he stopped at the entrance to the subway on 116thStreet. He had to go downtown to meet his customer. We madearrangements to meet in front of the dorm between 9:30 and 10 so Icould escort him into the building.At half past 10 I was nearly frantic worrying about Jose. I let myimagination conjure up all kinds of problems he may have encountered:mugging, k**napping, injury from a lustful and careless customer. Butthen I saw him round the corner of a classroom building. He saw me andran a hundred yards with a grin that laid waste to all my worries. Hethrew his arms around me and hugged me so tight it took my breath away.Excitedly, he blurted out, "He brought a friend! Paid me double! I'mrich!""I'm happy for you, Jose.""That's not the best part, Ray. He has two or three other friends. Nomore quickies in the back of his van. He wants me to stay in hisapartment and entertain his friends when they get horny.""That's quite a stoke of luck," I said while wondering what kind of menJose would be servicing. Would they treat him with the respect hedeserved or would they merely use him for sexual satisfaction?Although he would have a place to stay, I had lingering worries abouthis well-being. "I hope he doesn't expect you to service his friendsfor free."His exuberance only increased when he said, "No! They'll pay me.He'll get his sex for my room and board. I couldn't be happier, Ray.I'll be off the streets. I won't go hungry. I'll have money forclothes and stuff. And I'll get all the sex I want!""That's wonderful," I said.Then, he looked at me with a serious expression and said, "But there'sbad news, too. He wanted me to go home with him tonight. I told him Icouldn't until Sunday. I want to spend more time with you. I like youa lot, Ray. You've treated me like a real person. I'm going to missyou. I want to give you as much happiness as you've given me while Ican."That night, much of Saturday, Saturday night, and part of Sunday, Joseand I were dressed only to go out for a quick meal. Much of the time,we were in bed where he introduced me to an astonishing array ofsensual and sexual pleasures.We both cried as we said goodbye on Sunday afternoon. He left for anew home. I was left with cherished memories of a spectacular few dayswith a young man whose future, I prayed, would bring him joy.The End