Gay-for-Pay Pt. 01

"My boy has really taken a liking to you guys. Why don't you come over to our place for a nightcap?"

"I don't think so," Abel says looking quite glum.

"Nonsense," Marco says. "We'd love to."

As the guys follow the couple out of the bar, Enzo gives them directions to his house which is several miles away in the San Fernando Valley. As Marco and Abel had suspected, Enzo is the proud owner of one of the imposing motorcycles parked at the entrance to the bar. As the boys watch, the man dons a shiny, gold-streaked black helmet that matches a long, chrome-plated, black and gold motorbike. Ricky dons his own brightly colored helmet and scrambles on behind his daddy. The man leads the way to his house in the valley.

"Marco, do you really think this is a good idea?" Abel says in the car on the way to Enzo's place. "I don't trust this guy."

"Loosen up, amigo. It's not a matter of trust. You gotta be open to trying new things. If you don't, you're not ever gonna break out of that cage of yours."

"OK, fine. We'll go. But suppose we get there and the whips and chains come out?"

Marco laughs and shakes his head. "Then we'll leave, simple as that. Look, Abel, I got your back. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, at least not anything too far out. Besides, if I read him right, he knows better than to try any crazy shit like that. Just follow my lead and you'll be all right."

Enzo's house turns out to be an attractive little bungalow in an aging neighborhood of similar styled houses in a quiet enclave near where the 101 freeway intersects the Ventura Freeway. Abel marvels that such a freaky guy as Enzo would settle for such an ordinary looking house as this. He also marvels at how Marco just seems to take this all in, betraying not the slightest hint of discomfort or anxiety at going into the home of a guy with such strange far-out tastes. Once again, Abel wishes he could be more like Marco.

The house has a comfortable, lived-in feeling with lots of furniture dating back to the 50s and 60s. The style reminds Abel of his grandmother's house in Little Rock. Being surrounded by such old-fashioned conventional touches finally begins to put Abel at ease. It occurs to him that nobody with the same tastes as his grandma could possibly be that weird.

Enzo orders Ricky to get everyone a round of beers. When he switches on a recording of light jazz, Marco immediately identifies the combo and the piece, and this sets off an extended exchange between the two about jazz. It just so happens both like contemporary jazz masters like Boney James and Paul Taylor, while of course still revering older stalwarts like John Coltrane and Louis Armstrong. And as they throw out ideas and notions about jazz, it comes out that both have tried their hands at playing the music, Enzo on sax and Marco on guitar. As the discussion wears on, Abel who has little propensity for music and knows nothing about jazz is once again left feeling like the odd man out.

He glances at Ricky who has contentedly taken up a position on the floor at his master's feet, and wonders how the boy can just sit there in apparent blissful ignorance looking quite happy without feeling the slightest need to contribute anything to the discussion at hand.

"You know, I think we should change the subject," Enzo says at length. "I think we're losing Abel."

"What? No, I'm good," Abel says.

"No, man. Your eyes are glazing over. We should talk about something else—like you, for instance."

"What about me?"

That slight wolfish grin begins to creep across Enzo's face again. "I get the distinct impression you've never tried BDSM before. Am I right?"

And just like that Abel's unease at the whole situation comes flooding right back.

"No," he says quietly.

"Relax, amigo. Lots of people haven't," Marco chimes in. "Of course you do realize, don't you, Enzo, that that means you have to take it easy on him. He's a rookie."

Enzo chuckles. "Oh, I like rookies. We both do—don't we, Ricky."

"Yes, Daddy," Ricky says, looking hungrily at Marco.

"I'm serious, man," Marco emphasizes.

"So am I, Marco," Enzo says, his eyes sweeping across Abel like a hawk's. "I'll take it very easy on him. Hell, I'll give him anything he wants. Hey, baby," Enzo says, nudging Ricky. "Why don't you give our guests a little floor show."

In the manner of one who has done this before, Ricky springs to his feet and bounces over to a stereo system where he tunes in to some lively jazzy music. The boy lifts his arms and moves into a series of sensuous fluid movements as he spins out into the center of the room. And while it may be the dim lighting or the liquor or hint of sex in the room talking, Marco finds himself quite impressed by the boy's clever little show.

As Ricky dances, he begins to strip away his clothes, piece by piece. And somehow without ever ceasing to move, he kicks off his shoes, sheds his socks, and even wiggles out of the leather harness coiled about his slender torso.

"Cute kid, huh, Marco?" Enzo grins as he observes the lusty glow spreading across Marco's handsome face.

As Ricky commences unbuttoning his form-fitting jeans and pushing them open, he slides ever closer to Marco, making it abundantly obvious whose attention he wishes to win.

As for Marco, he lets it be known he has no problem being the object of the boy's desire. He grins broadly and languidly sips his drink as he inclines in the easy chair. Even Abel is a bit shocked when he sees Marco's hand slide down to his crotch and begin to lightly finger his bulge.

A huge grin crosses Abel's face to see the usually cool and collected Marco displaying such obvious lustiness. Abel takes a big swig of his own beer, finally feeling himself getting into the spirit of the night. It is only when his gaze momentarily drifts away from Marco and onto Enzo that Abel realizes the dark and intimidating man is focused entirely on him.

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Ricky pushes off his jeans to reveal he is wearing a leather jockstrap underneath. Now naked except for the jockstrap, the boy reaches out and pulls Marco to his feet.

"Come on. You dance too."

Marco laughs as he starts dancing about the floor. "Well, ain't much of a dancer—but why the hell not?"

"Yeah, man, dance," Abel calls out, starting to feel no pain.

As Marco sways lustily to the music, Ricky comes up behind him, grabs Marco's t-shirt and swiftly pulls it off over his head. Marco laughs tipsily and offers little resistance.

"Sneaky little monkey," Marco grins. He goes over to the coffee table, grabs another big swig of his beer and then goes back to dancing.

But Ricky isn't done. He grabs Marco, spins him back into the chair, and begins yanking on his boots until they finally slide off. Marco barely has time to down a gulp of his beer before Ricky has him back on his feet and dancing again. Seeing Marco this way, shirtless, shoeless, his brown sculpted body on full display as he glides sensuously about the floor, begins to stir heated feelings inside Abel that Ricky's smooth boyish body does not.

Ricky is obviously finding Marco just as sexy and so the boy begins slyly gliding his fingers all over Marco's beautiful body while occasionally wrapping his arms around the young man's lean torso. After a while, the kid reaches around and unhooks Marco's faded jeans and starts pulling them down. Marco deftly dances away from him as his jeans continue to sag on his hips.

Up until now, Enzo has been content to sit back and allow the evening's amusements play out without his involvement, except for idly groping his own growing hardon. But sensing something critical is about to occur, he abruptly gets to his feet and begins unbuttoning his own gray shirt. Just as Ricky again starts peeling off Marco's jeans, Enzo unzips and begins removing his own jeans. Now mostly naked except for a pair of gray boxer briefs, he leans over and gives Abel a little kick.

"Hey, Red, come on. Get with the program. Start taking shit off."

Abel takes a breath and begins unlacing his shoes. Just then, he looks up to see Ricky once again knock Marco into the easy chair and roughly yank his jeans clean off, leaving the young man naked except for a pair of briefs. Suddenly realizing he is the only one in the room with most of his clothes still on, Abel speeds up his actions, knocking off his shoes, yanking off his t-shirt and shoveling out of his jeans.

In the center of the dimly-lit room, Ricky accomplishes the ultimate, wrestling Marco's briefs down and burying his face into the young man's dark hairy groin. Both Marco and Abel gasps.

Just then Enzo reaches out and pulls his eager beaver boyfriend away from Marco's dangling member.

"Hey, hombres," Enzo announces to the attention of all, "I think it's about time we took this party into the bedroom."

Enzo's expansive bedroom is notable for the big king-size bed that sits in the middle of it. Situated just above is a large black and white print of two virile nude young men wrapped up in the throes of a heated embrace. Abel imagines lots of orgies must surely have taken place in this room. Just as in the living room, Enzo lowers the lighting so as to wrap everyone in a soft smoky haze.

Hardly are they in the bedroom before Ricky again jumps on Marco, this time wrapping his arms around the young man's neck and planting a hot kiss on his bronze lips. When Marco eases him off, Ricky twirls a little and then falls back onto Marco, this time dropping to his knees and taking the young man's limp cock in his hand. Marco continues to sway sensually as Ricky gets busy pumping his cock which quickly comes to life. After a few minutes the eager young pup brings the lengthening mancock into his mouth.

Enzo who by now has shed his boxer briefs parks himself in another easy chair on the far side of the bed and resumes lustily watching the show. He takes his considerable cock in hand and starts actively pumping it.

For his part, Abel has perched on the foot of the bed and is watching the Marco and Ricky Show with bated breath. Of course, the one he is really watching is Marco whose sculpted masculine body he had already taken note of, but even his fantasies could not have prepared him for seeing the young Latino stud in all his glorious nakedness. Lean. Tall. Bronzed. Downy smooth and so incredibly sexy that Abel can feel his own hardon straining inside his underwear though he has not touched himself once.

Marco is forced to take note that Ricky is no mere twinky teen who does not know how to properly handle a man's instrument. On the contrary, the boy's talents as a cock sucker are considerable as he alternately eats Marco's poker with zeal, then bathes it in spit, and then swallows it whole like a delicious hunk of dark juicy sausage. And then just as he has Marco twitching with ecstatic delight he withdraws totally from the rock-hard truncheon and hungrily begins munching on Marco's sensitive balls.

"Dammit, you funky little monkey," Marco groans, grabbing Ricky's bouncing head. "That's it. Lick it. Swallow it. Fuckin' eat my hairy balls."

Marco wrestles Ricky head all around his groin, stopping occasionally to slap the kid in the face with his steely rod. The rougher he is with the boy, the more Ricky seems to like it. Finally, the boy is so turned on he unsnaps his leather jockstrap and tosses it aside so his boyish hardon can bounce freely against his belly.

"Hey, Red," Enzo mutters, tossing a tiny stiffed rabbit at Abel to get his attention. "Why don't ya lose those damn underwear . . . or better yet, come over here and let me take 'em off for ya."

Hesitantly, Abel rises, takes a deep breath and starts making his way around the bed to where Enzo is seated. He eases his way past Marco and Ricky, hardly taking his eyes off them. As he passes them, he catches a whiff of the heady sexual heat rising off them as they make out, and it causes him to gasp a little. Even as he approaches Enzo, he is still glancing over his shoulder at Marco and Ricky.

Still seated, Enzo grabs Abel's well-toned body and pulls it to him, letting his big hands roam over the warm smooth surface of his hips. The man's firm grasp wrests Abel's attention away from the bobbing duo in the center of the room and onto this new intruder. To his surprise he does not find the man's strong masculine touch unpleasant—in fact, just the opposite—and he makes no effort to stop Enzo when he digs his fingers into Abel's underwear and begins sliding them off.

A hint of a smile traces its way across Enzo's darkly handsome face, as he goes on handling Abel's body, pinching it, tweaking it, and letting his fingers close around the firm mounds of Abel's fine ass.

"Damn, Red, why'd you ever hide a body like this? Damn sweet, pretty, little body. Just made for a man's hands."

"Hey, you . . . cabron," Marco calls out to him, even as Ricky goes on munching on his fuck stick. "Remember what I said: No rough stuff."

The man laughs, cuts his eyes at Marco, and then immediately brings them right back to Abel, staring up into his eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. You know that, don't ya?"

"Damn, kid, you got enough fuckin' tattoos on you, don't ya?" Marco says, noticing for the first time the mass of tattoos all over Ricky's body, front, back, down his arms and over much of his legs. While Enzo has several large imposing tattoos on his front and back, he has nothing like the serpentine map of tattoos dancing all over Ricky's slender young body.

"Was this your idea?" Marco says to Enzo.

"Whoa, no, Marco. He came to me that way. The boy just has a love for tattoos."

"Yeah," Ricky beams, slobber running down his mouth. "Can't get enough."

Suddenly without warning, Enzo lands a loud stinging slap on Abel's ass, causing the young man to gasp and jump.

"Hey!" Marco yells, pointing at Enzo by way of warning.

"Why'd you do that?" Abel asks, rubbing his smarting ass.

"Just putting a little color in these peachy cheeks," Enzo says, examining the reddish mark he has just left with pride.

The man gets to his feet and pulls Abel to him, nuzzling his neck and rubbing his rough scratchy beard over Abel's smooth face. And then he plants a hot kiss on Abel's mouth even as he continues to feel and probe Abel's body, letting his thick fingers graze Abel's warm ass cheek. As the kiss ends, Enzo lands another sharp blow on Abel's ass, causing Abel to jump even deeper into his arms.

"Hey, cut that out!" Marco demands.

"No, Marco," Abel gasps, still a little winded. "It's OK."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You were right. I can't go on playing it safe all the time. I wanna see . . . what this is like."

Enzo lands five more stinging blows on Abel's cheeks, leaving both of them bright and glowing. Marco stares on, biting his lip. And yet even he has to admit there is something intensely sexual about the sight of his friend's beautiful brown butt, singed with red.

But if Marco is turned on by the sight, Enzo is set afire by it. He grabs Abel and wraps him in his arms, kissing him with unmitigated passion, slamming their cocks together, and digging his fingers deep into Abel's stinging ass. For the first time, Marco is actually jealous of Abel.

"Damn, that's hot," he says and grabs the slender boy, lifts him to his feet and kisses him, and then slings him onto the bed and jumps on him. Ricky squirms and giggles with delight.

Marco grabs the boy's legs and hoists them up, and then spits into Ricky's pink hole.

"You ready for this pinga, chico?" Marco demands, glaring at the boy.

"Fuck, yeah!" Ricky yells, grinning wide.

"Fucking little monkey. Gonna plow you good."

Marco prepares to assault Ricky's willing hole, but before he does, he glances over at Abel who is now being expertly reamed by Enzo. Though Marco cannot really see what Enzo is doing, he can tell by Abel's ecstatic expression that the young man is receiving the ass-eating of a lifetime. With every penetration of Enzo's expert tongue, Abel whines and cries out, groaning so deeply that Marco can tell Enzo must have a serpent's tongue capable of plunging to the very heart of his being. He can literally see Abel shivering with desire from the intense tongue-lashing Enzo is giving him. Finally, the man whispers something and Marco can just barely make it out.

"Say it, Red. Say you want your daddy to fuck you."

"I do . . . want it. Fuck me . . . Daddy . . . please."

Enzo gets to his feet, a look of supreme confidence on his face. But instead of immediately plunging his cock into Abel as both Abel and Marco expect, he pauses and grabs Abel, turns him around and forces him to his knees to confront his monster cock.

"Fuck me already," Ricky whines, reaching around and attempting to pull Marco's looming dick into his itchy hole. But though he is poised on the edge of Ricky's wide-open crevice, Marco is too hypnotized by the sight of Abel and Enzo to move.

"Don't rush me. I'll get there," he mutters, barely noticing Ricky.

Meanwhile, Enzo brandishes his substantial fuck piece in front of Abel, swiping it roughly across Abel's gasping face. Like the man himself, Enzo's cock is mature and dark, a purplish brown rod with a deep maroon head, laced with a thicket of veins and embedded in a black bushy thicket. Hesitantly, Abel closes his hands around the thick base and pulls it into his mouth.

"That's it, boy. Suck it. Get it ready for your sweet boy hole."

Abel closes his eyes and swallows as much of the cock as his can, all the while imbibing the

heavy musky scent of Enzo's crotch. The more he sucks the more he swallows, and the more he swallows the more he drinks in that incredible man scent with its hot intoxicating fumes.

At length Enzo grunts, his face aglow with hunger and desire. He lifts Abel up from the floor and tosses him face-first onto the bed, not far from where Marco is hovering over Ricky. And with little fanfare, he enters Abel, his spit-soaked cock like a heat-seeking missile entering virgin terrain.

"Aaaaaiiiiiggghhh! Oh, my God! Oh, Fuck!" Abel yelps as a bolt of white-hot lightning tears through his body.

And a split second later, Ricky yells too as Marco slams into his hole, plunging as deep as he can go. And while both Abel and Ricky cry and yelp in pain, their bottoms wracked with fire, it would be impossible to miss that one is crying in agony and the other in pure ecstasy.

"Jesus Christ, take it easy . . ." Abel pleads.

"Oh, fuck, yeah . . . more, more, more," Ricky implores.

"I gotcha, baby," Enzo assures as he inches forward into Abel's wracked body. Barely a foot away, Marco bears down on Ricky, plowing him with all the force his lean body can supply and hitting him so hard he knocks Ricky forward on the bed.

"You OK?" he says drawing back a bit. Even he was shocked by the fury of his fuck strokes on the skinny boy.

"Are you kiddin'? It was fuckin' great!" Ricky declares gleefully. "Gimme more."

But instead Marco pauses, once again caught up in the unfolding drama mere inches away. Enzo slides is hands reassuringly over Abel's tense body, massaging and relaxing him just enough to accept more of that massive mancock into the depths of his stretched hole. Marco could never imagine Abel would have been able to handle a rod so huge, so overbearing, but there he is doing it, taking it all.

"You OK?" he says, reaching out, touching Abel's shoulder, much worried for him.

Hardly able to speak, Abel glances over at him and though still in pain, he manages to nod his head. Meanwhile, Enzo continues to stroke and massage him, touching his body with such mastery that Marco can plainly see that his touch is having the desired effect. Little by little, inch by inch, he can see Abel calming down, squirming less, and surrendering to the heated desires of the older man's pleasure.