CHAPTER ONE

 

 

"Beat me, punk. Harder! Crack that whip across my body. Oooh-oooh!" The man shuddered.

Brodie didn't know how far he should go with this old fart's trip.

"C'mon, you little bastard! Beat me till I come. Make me feel alive. Let me feel the pain. I need to suffer."

Brodie cracked the leather whip across the silver-haired man's wrinkled body again. It was like beating up his grandfather-- a weird scene. But the man promised to pay him fifty bucks and Brodie sure would give the guy his money's worth.

"Now, insult me. Talk dirty to me, teenaged punk," the older man begged.

"You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. At your age too. All you want is a naked teenaged stud to whip your ass." Brodie cracked the whip across the man's chalky butt covered with snowy down.

"Torture me. Punish me. Oh God, I love it. You're such a handsome devil, I just knew you had to be mean and rotten to the core."

Brodie grabbed the silver-haired man by the hair. "You filthy scumbag, I ought to beat you to death!"

"Oh shit, you're terrific. Hunky teenaged devil! Beat me. Make me come!"

"You've already shot your wad by your age, mother-fucker!"

Brodie hit the man across the ass again and again, raising red welts. He'd practically hog tied the man just as he'd been told to. And then he'd beaten him relentlessly with the whip.

"Ahhh yeahhh. Uurn!" the old man grunted. Piss trickled and then sprayed out of his shriveled cock, wetting the bed in the motel room.

"You pig, you're disgusting. Pee the bed and wallow in it," Brodie said menacingly.

"Now it's your turn, baby. I want to drink your piss!" the old man cried.

Brodie held his cock by the base and let go with a spray of foamy piss all over the man's face. He watched calmly as the man swallowed his piss.

"Now let me taste that cock butch, blond angel."

Brodie shoved his soft cock into the old man's mouth. His cock swelled in the hot, moist mouth. He could feel the man's tongue swab underneath his foreskin and lick up the cheese there.

"Eat my cock, old man. Suck the cum out of my balls." Brodie clasped the man's head and rammed his prick in and out of the man's mouth.

The silver-haired man slurped and gagged while sucking the teenager's cock. Brodie pumped his prick faster and faster into the gobbling orifice, roughly mouth-fucking the man.

"Oh fuck! Shit. Jesus. Here it comes! Take my load, cock-sucker. Swallow all of my jizz."

The man gasped as Brodie's shooting cock blasted gobs and gobs of hot creamy cum all over the man's face. But then, suddenly Brodie knew that something was horribly wrong. The man's mouth was wide open and his eyes were vacant. He touched the man's throat for a pulse, but there was none.

Brodie dressed in a frenzy. Dead, he thought! Jesus, that meant cops, even if he hadn't killed the son-of-a-bitch. And who would believe him, a young stud stone broke in the room with a queer corpse?

He took the man's wallet out of his pants and grabbed some bills. He figured he might as well take all the money before the maid and the cops got it. Besides, the man had promised him fifty bucks and a bonus if he did good.

******

Out on the I-80 freeway Brodie tried to hitch a ride back to Sacramento where he lived. He'd just come down to San Francisco to have some fun, to smoke some dope, hustle some queers, and cruise chicks. It had been this queer's idea to stop at a motel. And Brodie agreed only for the money.

That had been stupid, he thought now. Still he often hustled money. Then, when he was loaded he'd go fuck some chick who always split on him later when he was broke again. But he had to do it. As long as he fucked chicks he felt his masculinity was intact. He was still a man, not a faggot like his johns.

Sacramento was boring, especially after he'd lost his job as a gas pump jockey. He had often just pocketed money for oil, which came from the big tank inside the station. And he never rang up the eight bucks charged for changing a flat tire. He figured that cash was a fringe benefit. Besides, the owner paid him below minimum wage anyway.

At least the job had gotten him but of the children's home where he had lived. His parents had abandoned him and he was too wild for foster homes. Now he was old enough to be on his own.

Standing out on freeway now, thumbing back to Sacramento, he thought about the first queer he'd ever met.

******

 

Chad Miller had this '65 Mustang that was in cherry condition. He'd stop at the Chevron station, constantly changing the spark plugs and adjusting the carburetor. Brodie even loaned him tools, even though that was forbidden when the boss was around.

Chad eventually followed Brodie into the toilet at the station one night. Nervously Brodie had skinned back his foreskin and tried to piss in the urinal next to the sink. Chad had pretended to wash his hands, but Brodie knew he kept looking at his prick. Brodie was very embarrassed when his prick got hard as a rock.

Chad then reached over and touched the teenager's cock. "That's quite a piece of equipment," he said.

Brodie blushed and started to stuff his prick back inside his blue coveralls.

Chad just kneeled down on the greasy floor, which was wet with water from the leaky commode. He put his lips around Brodie's cock.

"Oh wow, that feels good," Brodie moaned. "I tried to get this broad to suck me, but she said that was dirty. Oh shit, it feels good."

Brodie rubbed Chad's curly black hair while Chad sucked the blond boy's cock. He pumped his prick in Chad's mouth. Brodie thought it was exciting that his cock was so big -- and so thick -- that it made Chad gag when he roughly mouth-fucked him. Chad took out his own ample prick and jacked himself off in rhythm to the blond boy's mouth-fucking rhythm.

"Oh man, I can't hold back any longer," Brodie said. "I'm going to shoot."

Chad sucked Brodie's cock faster and beat his own meat with a blurry fist.

"Oh God, I'm coming. Swallow my jizz, man!" Brodie grunted.

Chad gulped and managed to drink all of the blond boy's wad of fuck-juice. Brodie watched Chad's own wad of jizz spurt out of his rosy cock-head and swirl around with the grease and water on the floor.

Chad stopped in the station several times afterwards. But they didn't have sex again. Chad said he wanted to be friends, rather than just trick. Brodie didn't understand what he meant. He had been sort of looking forward to more blowjobs from Chad and he was disappointed Chad wasn't willing.

Chad usually had some teenaged boy in the car with him when he stopped for gas. He had a different kid each time, Brodie noticed. One day the boss asked Brodie if he'd heard that the cops had arrested the guy with the black Mustang for having sex with kids. The boss said he thought perverts like that should have their balls cut off for fucking kids.

******

 

Brodie kept his thumb stuck out, on the side of the freeway, trying to get a car to stop. Suddenly a highway patrol car pulled onto the shoulder. Brodie thought about running, but there was a chain link fence along the freeway and nowhere for him to go.

Out there on the side of the freeway the officer frisked the blond boy, cuffed him, and put him into the back seat of the cruiser.

As they headed across the Bay Bridge back into San Francisco, Brodie was scared shitless. "Why are you arresting me?" he kept asking.

"Suspicion of murder. A maid at the motel saw you leave and gave us a description."

"I didn't kill that man!"

"I've already told you your rights. Anything you say can and will be used against you..."

******

 

Brodie Hobkins was turned over to the S.F.P.D., fingerprinted, and photographed.

He was questioned by a homicide investigator. "I think you killed and robbed that fruit," the cop said. "An eyewitness saw you at the scene. Looks like an airtight case to me. Give us a confession and it will go easier for you, son."

"I admit I tricked with him," Brodie said. "And I took the money out of his wallet. But I didn't kill him!"