The following story is a work of erotic fiction. It is for entertainment purposes only. It is not intended to be read by minors. It may include sex involving characters under 18 years of age and racially offensive language. Anyone who might be offended by this type of story, or unduly influenced by it, should find something else to read.
Sam stood in a dimly lit corner of the porn movie house. He held two wrinkled notes in his trembling fingers; one from his supervisor at work, telling him he wouldn't have a job in two weeks because his work was being "outsourced" to India and Eastern Europe. The other note was from his wife of 14 years telling him that she had had enough -- he spent entirely too much time at the office and felt like she was married to a ghost. She planned to take the kids and move to Texas, where she thought she had better prospects to find a job and raise the kids.
Sam ran his hand over the uneven skin of his aging face. He saw his reflection in the clear plastic that covered the display case for the videos that were playing in the booths. In the dim light the lines on his face and thinning of his salt-and-pepper hair were more visible than usual. The light and shadow of the movie house seemed to accent his age. He rubbed the unshaved peppery stubble on his chin.
Sam felt an impulse to leave the movie house. Maybe if he had a stiff drink he could forget all about his problems for awhile. The automatic air freshener of the movie house hissed its sickly sweet spray on Sam's head making him grimace. He stuffed the letters back in his pocket and headed toward the exit.
Just then a young African American male, who looked around 16 years old, entered the movie house. He strutted down the dark aisles with confidence, bopping his head to the music on his I-pod. The volume was turned up so loud Sam could make out the dim tune as it blasted into the miniature speakers in the boy's ears.
Sam and the young black male briefly exchanged glances. The boy's eyes were hazel and set against the glow of his golden brown face. A knowing smirk crossed the teenager's face, then he averted his gaze under the cover his long thick eyelashes. His rose colored lips continued to sync the hip hop lyrics of the music that was pumping into his ears. A slight hit of peach fuzz, trying to become a mustache, cast a faint soft shadow above the boy's upper lip.
Sam watched the boy as he turned down one of the dark corridors in the movie house. The kid was wearing a white "wife beater". His lean muscular arms seemed to glow from the reflected light outside the movie booths as he pressed the plugs deeper into his ears, making the music louder. His white baseball cap, turned sideways, swayed to the rhythm as it rested on top of a white bandana. The small ends of light brown braids peeked out from underneath the bandana. Without giving Sam a second glance the boy disappeared inside of an empty video booth. Sam heard a stream of quarters dropping into coin box and a glow from the video screen reflected off of the shiny wooden walls at the entrance to the booth. By state law porn movie houses for the public were not allowed to have doors. The politicians had convinced themselves, or at least the voters, that this would prevent the movie houses from becoming sites for casual sex. The effect, of course, was the reverse.
Sam could no longer see the boy from where he was standing. He did not want to creep up on the boy for fear he would be shooed away. Instead, Sam contented himself with watching the reflection from the video screen on doorway. Then he noticed something, it seemed like the shadow of the boy suggested some kind of motion going on inside the booth.
Sam moved closer to the doorway and saw the steady rhythmic motion of the boy's shadow as the boy stood in front of the video screen. The motions were those of a steady beat -- a stroking motion. Sam listened heard the sound of skin being vigorously stroked and the rustling of clothing. He could no longer contain his curiosity. He peeked around the corner and saw the youth stroking his hard brown skinned cock while watching the screen and bopping his head to the music.
Sam felt his own dick grow hard inside his pants as he watched the youth stroking himself, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. Suddenly the boy turned his head and his gaze met Sam's. Sam gulped as the boy's hazel colored eyes pierced his soul. Sam stepped back, giving the boy space -- fearful that the boy would be angry and try to punch him out or quickly zip himself up and leave.
But the boy just stood there, stroking more slowly now, but eyes firmly fixed on Sam's gaze. There almost seemed to be an implicit challenge in the boy's eyes as he continued to sync the words to the hip hop tune on his I-pod. Sam felt awkward, embarrassed, intimated -- he struggled with himself not to turn away. The boy smirked. He didn't seem angry; he seemed in control. Sam started feeling emboldened and eased his way into the booth beside the teenager.
The musty smell of the teenager's youthful strength and sexual vitality filled the booth. Before Sam could say anything the boy undid his pants further, exposing a thick black bush of youthful pubic hair underneath his boxer shorts, "Let's see wha' you can do wit' dis," the boy whispered in voice that had the rhythmic beat of a jazz drum. He revealed the full length of his teenage cock and large low-hanging testicles swinging between his legs.
The forty-eight year old man sunk to his knees in front of the young black teenager and surrendered himself to the boy's masculine vitality. Sam admitted to himself that his own world was crumbling around his ears, but the youth standing in front of him seemed confident and unafraid of anything.
Sam licked the boy's hairy black balls in admiration. The boy held his sac up and Sam licked underneath the boy's testicles. Before he knew it, he had a mouth full of the youth's testicular hair and warm soft sacs filling his mouth. He sucked on the boy's nuts, making the teen moan. The boy sank down onto the padded bench in the booth and Sam crawled between the youth's legs. He rested his hands on the boy's brown thighs and felt soft whiffs of teenage hair hinting at emerging manhood. Sam buried his face between the boy's warm thighs and sucked on the boy's throbbing penis.
The boy's dick was harder than Sam ever remembered his own dick being when he was the boy's age. It filled Sam's mouth with hot tender flesh, but remained a firm youthful pillar of power thrusting down his throat. Sam tasted the boy's precum leaking on his tongue.
In the daytime, a man like Sam -- who used to have a good-paying job -- could convince himself that he was a power in the city while people like this boy did menial labor. He could convince himself that money was power. But now he was faced with the reality that everything he had built his life around could vanish over night, and that boys like the one in front of him had the power of unshakable self-confidence, vitality, and life.
The boy grabbed Sam by the back of his head and thrust his hips in his mouth almost making him gag. Sam eagerly tried to swallow the length of the boy's cock and allowed the youth to use his mouth like a wet pussy, ready to absorb all of a young man's cum juices. Sam resolved to be a willing instrument for release of the teenager's sexual aggressions. He would allow the boy to release himself in his mouth, because that was all Sam was good for.
Every day he had seen groups of boys like this one riding up and down the wide city streets on skateboards. They played dare and chicken with onrushing traffic. Now Sam was down on his knees servicing one of these boys; acknowledging the youth's absolute power over him. He admired the boy for his urban toughness and gave him respect by sucking the boy's cock. His mouth became a willing outlet for the boy's teenaged lust.
The boy eagerly gyrated his hips against Sam's face. Sam felt the boy's full hairy sacs rub against his lower lip. The boy's thick cock started twitching in his mouth -- Sam knew the youth was about to release his cum. He knew the youth would shoot his juices and maybe this would give him the strength and self-confidence he needed to get through another day. Maybe this cocky black youth, full of urban vitality, would become a part of Sam by pumping him full of youthful testosterone.
The boy took quick breaths and burst into an orgasm. He fired thick hot loads of fresh teenage cum into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed it down. The boy shot even more loads. Sam's mouth was full of the smell and taste of young hot urban manhood.
Finally, the boy's body went limp. The sweat from the boy's shapely abs dripped onto Sam's face. Sam licked the teenager's cock clean, not wanting his session with the boy to end. He breathed deeply and savored the smell of the boy's pubic hair.
When the boy caught his breath and came to his senses he tapped Sam on the head and extracted his dick from the desperate man's mouth.
A look of longing washed over Sam's face as the youth's cock disappeared inside of his boxer shorts and he zipped himself up. The boy looked down at Sam. His eyes were now tender and sympathetic rather than manipulative and challenging. "Thanks man," he said in a half-whisper. The teenager stood up and slipped into the darkness outside of the booth.
Sam watched the boy's back fade into the shadows. For a moment, at least, he and the boy had shared a secret of masculine bonding. Each knew what the other needed -- one needed someone to submit to him and the other, someone to submit to. Sam and the boy gave each other what they needed.
It was a moment; only a moment. And in the moment, as the boy exploded with semen in the older man's mouth, Sam believed in himself and in the world again. But after the moment passed, the boy vanished into the night.