Eyes Like Winona

byCruel2BKind©

"What kind of kinks?"

He shrugged. "Some of them are okay. I had a guy who payed a hundred bucks extra so he could lick my feet before giving me a blowjob. Other guys want to be tied up, want you to wear weird clothes, stuff like that. Sometimes, they want one of us to watch. Ferdinand doesn't let them do the rough stuff. The leather freaks and copraphiles and 'vampires' have to find someone else."

I was starting to feel sick again. Drake seemed to think this was reassuring. He saw my face. "Sorry Ryan. Look, you said that you give blowjobs to your boss? We'll just set you up with one of those, okay?"

I nodded. We were at the street, and we crossed it. The stoop was bare, both of the others were inside. I sat down on the dry part and pulled my arms inside my shirt, shivering. He sat next to me, shaking out the umbrella and folding it. He leaned it against the railing.

He shucked his jacket and put it over my shoulders. "You okay Ryan?"

I pulled his jacket around me like a blanket. I could smell body spray and rain and cloth. I could smell that tantalizing smell. It was a low smell, a hot smell, a secret smell. The jacket was warm from his body.

"No. I'm scared." He was shivering. I moved closer to him, so close that our hips touched lightly. I draped the coat over the both of us. It was just big enough to cover us both. His bare arm was against my bare arm. My skin was like clay. His skin was covered with sharp little goosebumps, making the thin hairs stick up. His skin was rough with the cold and the skin was hot.

He smiled at me. I knew then that I was lost. Hopelessly lost. "Thanks. And if you're scared, that means that you are sane. If you were being callous about this, I would be worried."

There was nothing coy, nothing sly about the way he held my hand. He just laced his long warm fingers with my cold fingers and squeezed.

A car pulled up. I had never been good with cars, it was dark green and small, a compact. I could see the Chevrolet sign on the grill.

"Listen Ryan. I'll come with you. If you want to stop, just stop and I'll take over. This is your failsafe, your lifeline. Okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you Drake."

We stood up, and he took the jacket back. "Just remember. To him, I'm Dean."

We walked up to the window, opening the umbrella as we went. The man behind the glass was a heavyset man with thinning gingery hair and sideburns. He looked between us with interest. "Dean? Is this a new kid?"

Drake leaned forward. "Very new. I actually wanted to talk to you about that. This is his first time."

He glanced at me. "Really? Can I suck him off?" He looked nervous while he said it. I felt a weird hot feeling in my groin. This might be my first blowjob. From a middle-aged stranger.

Drake looked at me. "Are you okay with that Ryan?" I nodded.

What was I doing?

---

Drake walked me inside, with the man following us. The client.

The hall was thin and smelly. The walls were yellowed with the deep indelible smell of cigarette smoke. Two of the long ceiling lights were flickering, and at one end of the hall I could see a tangle of wires hanging from a gutted camera. This place was worse then the apartment I lived in.

A few doors ahead, the tall latino boy, Jose, stepped out of room 09. He was tall and imperious, with coffee-colored skin and pretty almond-shaped eyes. The man who followed him was pushing up his bifocals. They both looked me up and down before passing me in the hallway.

Drake spoke softly. "We have the odd-numbered rooms. One, three, five, seven, and nine. I live here in room one. If we got extras, it's just polite to go to the rooms where I don't live. If we ever get five guys again, I'm going to have to hide my stuff when it gets busy."

We went into room seven. It was like a prison cell. Just a bed and a toilet and a shower and a sink and a stove all in one room. The toilet and stall had a broken curtain that was supposed to go around it for privacy. The metal rail along the ceiling was half-gone, leaving a track of plaster where it had been. There wasn't even a window.

The man, my client came in after us. Drake put his hand on my shoulder. "This guy's cool, alright? I'm going to be sitting right outside that door. To my client, he said. "You know the drill. Fifty if you do him, and it's ninety if you want him to reciprocate. Anything else, and you should talk to me."

He smoothed back his thin ginger hair. "I wont spook the kid, don't worry. We'll be fine.

Drake closed the door behind him with a soft click. I sat down on the corner of the bed. Now that it was actually going to happen, I was starting to feel numb.

He sat next to me. "You nervous?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

He put his hand on my shoulder. I expected to be repulsed by his touch, but the weight of his hand was pleasant enough. "Don't worry about it, okay?" His other hand rested on my thigh, and I could feel the warmth through the damp fabric.

I could see his head moving closer, and I know what he wanted, so I turned to meet him. He smelled like cigarettes and cats and cologne. When he was this close, I could see his heavy pouched cheeks and the blemishes on his forehead and the watery blue eyes behind his glasses. He pressed his lips against mine with surprising gentleness. I could feel soft whiskers against my mouth and cheeks. It wasn't that bad. It was just a touch. It made me feel a little better.

"You're very sweet. Did you know that?" He murmured.

I was confused. "I didn't do anything." I whispered.

He just smiled. "Yes you did. None of the others let me kiss them. They forget. Some of us aren't just doing this for the sex. It's for the connection."

His hands were at the hem of my t-shirt and I lifted my arms obligingly. The air in here was damp and lukewarm. My skin was pale tan, but under my waistband I knew I was fishbelly white. There was a patch of pale skin the size and shape of my swim trunks under my jeans.

He pressed his hand gently on my chest, between my nipples. "Lay back sweetheart." He murmured, not taking his eyes off of me. I leaned back, and I could feel the rough blanket under my back. I looked up at the ceiling. There were cracks and water-spots in the plaster. I studied them as I felt him touching me. I thought about that famous urban legend, when Queen Elizabeth's mother told her to 'close her eyes and think of England'. For a single absurd moment, I was dangerously close to laughing.

His hands were heavy and slightly damp. Not repulsive, just heavy. He was stroking my up and down my sides, up and down. One hand rested gently on my stomach, and it almost tickled. I flinched when I felt his lips on my nipples. A soft almost-noise escaped my mouth when he bit it. Not hard, but it still stung.

My eyes were searching around the room. For the first time since he had touched me, I was starting to panic. Then I saw the door.

It was open a crack, and Drake was looking through it. He was watching over me, and that soothed me. The crack was only big enough for me to see a slit of his porcelain-pale skin and a single dark eye.

He was making soft grunting noises while he sucked on my nipples, like a piglet. He was laying on me, and he was heavy. I was having a hard time breathing. I was almost relieved when he started to go down. I curled handfuls of the blanket into my fists, to squeeze. I was breathing very fast, I couldn't help it.

His feet were on the ground at the base of the bed. He was unbuckling my belt. The jeans were hand-me-downs from Toby, and very loose. He was able to grab the fabric and yank it down to my knees without even unbuttoning the waistband.

I felt the humid air on my bare thighs. I had soft plain black boxers. The soft blonde hairs on my thighs were sticking up through nervousness or cold or something. It felt funny when he drew his hands across my thighs, smoothing down the almost-invisible hairs.

Something was building up in my chest. A terrible anxiety. For a single moment I just wanted to roll away. To lash out with my feet and fists, anything to get out of this situation. For a single moment, it was unbearable, but then he pulled down my boxers and it just went away. I was meek and complacent again. I looked down, I couldn't help it.

Despite the turmoil in my mind, things were relatively simple down there. My cock was resting on my stomach like a hot hard stone. There was even a patch of precome on the slightly rough skin of the glans. Then I saw his hand wrap around it, and I tilted my head back as he engulfed my cock in his mouth. I grunted softly, but after that I bit my lip. I didn't want to make noises, especially with Drake watching.

He was good. Maybe he wasn't, and I just had no experience, but it felt very good. If I hadn't been feeling so sick and scared, I would have come right away. He cupped my buttocks in his hands and squeezed and groped. I felt a single note of perfect white-hot panic as his fingertip brushed against my anus.

Then my head thrashed to the side and I heard a low painful sound. I was making that sound. My orgasm felt weird and muted. Not as strong as when I just jerked off.

He wiped his mouth and smiled up at me. I smiled tentatively back, even though I felt the urge to vomit. He stood up and sat on the bed. His pants were unzipped and halfway down his thighs. His buttocks were pale and doughy and covered in stretch marks and blemishes. He was stroking his cock.

"Come here sweetheart." He panted, looking at me with half-lidded eyes.

My legs were weak. I pulled up my boxers as I sprung up and got on my knees in front of him. My thighs were trembling. Weak with orgasm or revulsion, I wasn't sure. My belt buckle jingled.

His cock was short and thick and bright red. I lowered my head onto it, and suddenly things were routine. His cock wasn't Mr. Browning's, and his fat thighs pressed in on either side of my head, but at least I knew what I was doing again. When he put his hands on my head I started to feel claustrophobic.

Out of nowhere, suddenly his cock was pulsating. I tasted his come and I tried to pull back but his hands kept me close. I choked and come dribbled over my lower lip. He let me go and I fell back so my ass was resting on my ankles. My mouth was full of sour bitter come. I didn't wipe it because I didn't have anything to wipe it with. I didn't swallow because my stomach was queasy and I knew that if I did I would puke. Some of it dribbled down on my chest.

He was getting up, pulling up his pants, and suddenly he was gone. No words, no apologies, no anything. I looked up and saw some crumpled bills on the bed. I got up shakily and pulled up my pants. I tried to buckle my belt but my hands were shaking too badly.

Drake came in. He was wiping my mouth and chest with a paper towel.

"Th-Thanks." I whispered. I looked up into his big dark eyes, and I realized that he wasn't wearing eyeliner like I first thought. He had very heavy black eyelashes, they were like soft hedges around his black eyes. They softened his eyes, and edged them in a natural mascara. He was beautiful.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, resting his hand on my bare shoulder. His hand wasn't heavy. It was light, and the fingertips were soft and dry.

I took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. His hand helped. After I felt a little steadier, I nodded. "I think so."

Matter-of-factly. "Stick your tongue out." I did and he wiped it with a clean part of the brown paper towel. He dug in his pocket as I buckled my belt with a little more success. "Mint?" He offered me a wrapped lifesaver mint and I accepted it gratefully. It washed out the bitter taste.

My legs still felt weak, so I sat heavily on the corner of the bed. "Can I... rest for a minute?" I asked quietly. My voice was still a little shaky. He nodded, picking up my t-shirt from the floor and tossing it to me.

"Sure Ryan."

He took off his jacket and flung it over the radiator to dry. My umbrella was hanging from the hooked handle of the doorknob. He yanked the comforter from where it was tucked in and wrapped it around my shoulders. The quilted fabric was poor-quality, itchy, and smelling like sweat and cheap detergent. It was warm, and it felt good on my cold skin. I pulled it around close, enjoying the purely physical comfort of the blanket, and trying not to think about the claustrophobic panic that I had endured moments before.

Drake sat next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. There was no artifice, no coyness, no trickery. He just comforted me. I leaned against him when he pulled me in, feeling how warm his pale skin was. I started to cry a little, but I was able to stop it quick.

"Do you think you'll be back?" He asked quietly. I could hear his heart beating.

"I have to."

And that was the truth, but I wasn't sure if I meant for my family, or for the man that I had already fallen for so desperately hard.

*

*Hope you liked chapter one!

Remember to keep your eyes peeled for my Nude Day submission, 'The Goats'. I only have a few pages left to finish, so it should show up on the first day of the contest.

Kisses and Spanks,

--Cruel

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