Poppa's Cub Ch. 00-01

Poppa's Cub: Prologue

Kyle sat on the edge of his best friend's bed.

He was watching Roger pack his life up, into boxes. He stuffed books, drawings, childhood mementos, and sealed each one up with duct tape. He would stack the full boxes into a corner of the room and stopped to take a break.

"So anyway," Roger said, "I want you to move in with me."

"I can't," Kyle replied, "I don't have a job. I don't have a car, or a driver's license." Hell, I'm seventeen, I'm not even an adult yet.

Roger cocked his eyebrow and despite all the years that they had been friends together could not name Kyle's birthday. He growled at Kyle.

"Well why don't you?"

Kyle shrugged. He was a heavy-set, double-chinned youngster who hadn't come out of his shell. He hung out with Roger and a few other fantasy role-players, but didn't have many friends. He and Roger had made friends because of their mutual love for comic books, and comic book art.

"I don't know," Kyle muttered, embarrassed.

Roger grunted as he often did when he was displeased and started to pack more. He was wearing a pair of red shorts and a t-shirt. It was summer, and Kyle was wearing old dusty jeans and a t-shirt a well. It was the summer after the both of them had graduated from high school and they had their own lives in front of them.

Kyle helped Roger load up the boxes in his old battered Maverick and they shook hands.

"I'll give you a call when I get settled in my apartment, and we can hang out."

Kyle nodded and watched him drive away. He got on his bicycle and rode home. He spent the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Roger.

Three or four days later, he got the call from Roger, which he never returned. Roger called a few times, and Kyle did not return those, either.

Chapter One

In a year or so, he did some volunteer work, got his driver's license, a job, and, a studio flat over in downtown. He felt overwhelmed, surrounded, and dominated by the world. He paid his bills mechanically, got good reviews at work, and went to see his parents once a week or so. Like many youth, he was interested in girls and sex, but always felt foolish around them. He also felt uncomfortable with himself.

His apartment was on the third floor of a seedy hotel, and it overlooked the dirty, downtown of Vancouver, Washington.

In the mid-eighties, downtown was abandoned, the ghost of the old Lucky Lager beer plant loomed over. Across from his apartment were two hole-in-the-wall porno stores that he would look at from time to time as the months passed by.

On occasion, he would see a big muscular guy with a tall thin girl go in. They would go in, together, laughing, and then she would come a while later, and flag cars down. He supposed she was a hooker and pondered hiring her a time or two, but was poor, and scared of diseases.

On a late Saturday afternoon he was bored, and restless. Now, at twenty years old, he was not old enough to get into a bar, but still old enough to get into the porno theater. He'd been there a couple of times, but tonight, he felt almost driven.

The front part of the place was your standard magazine tits-and-ass display. With a few scarce dildos in the front display case. He walked a little deeper and found a small section of magazines that has pictures of nude men on it, in various poses and even a cover shot of one man sucking another. He was both fascinated and repulsed. It made his mouth run dry and his hands shake as he saw some of the covers and titles.

Lest he be seen, he took a few steps to the left, and positioned himself in front of a large display of cheaper magazines with pictures of large breasted women on them. He had to admit a certain attraction to breasts, he liked the way they moved on a big chested woman. He had even idly wondered a time or two what it would be like to have big breasts.

His attention was distracted by the clatter of a beaded curtain which he thought simply was an employee entrance of some sort. Two men came out, holding each other's hands. He swallowed again as they kissed in the magazine room and then left the theater, each man going into a different direction.

He moved back over toward the men's magazines, in an attempt to figure out what was behind the curtain, and the then saw a sign that he had missed.

'Arcade takes tokens only. 25 Cents each or five/$1.00 Tokens at Front Desk'

He heard lewd moaning sounds from this arcade and wondered what sort of games there were in there.

He walked up to the clerk, an obese little man with a thin mustache and fished out two weathered dollar bills, and asked for tokens.

The clerk eyed him and said, "Can I see some ID?"

Kyle stammered and produced his driver's license.

"Okay, kid. Don't make a mess, alright?" He said, handing Kyle eight tokens.

Kyle wondered what he meant, and was surprised by what he saw when he went through the curtain. No video games, certainly, but a back row of booths and two parallel rows of booths as well.

Each door was thin plywood and lockable from the inside. There was an eerie light caused by black lighting on the ceiling, and it made the white of his socks and tennis shoes glow.

In one corner was the beefy man who he had seen on the street a few times, and he was talking to another man. They were in some animated discussion of some sort.

To his left, from one of the booths a man came out of it. The door to that booth was about to slam shut but then opened of it's own accord as another man came out of the booth.

Curiously, Kyle looked about and found an empty booth. He slipped in, found a latch style lock on the inside, and slid it shut.

There was a small wooden bench that he sat on, and a video screen in front of him covered with Plexiglas. A single, illuminated button was there, as well as a coin slot. The whole booth smelled musky, and dingy. It was an odd, sort of familiar, and slightly exciting smell.

He put a token into the slot, and the video screen flickered to life. On it were two men kissing. He was fascinated, and scared, and then hit the button. It cycled through six different movies, four gay, one straight, and one lesbian. He was watching the lesbian one and the screen clicked off.

More tokens and the screen came back on. The lesbian one, while interesting was also boring as they were just kissing with their clothing on, so he flicked over to one of the ones with the gay men on it. They hungrily sucked each other's cocks, taking unreal sized pieces of meat down each other's throats. They made obscene noises and he felt his arousal, and was surprised when he was quite hard at watching this.

There was the sound of another booth being opened and closed and it somewhat scared him, and he moved in the seat, putting his hand down. He felt a sticky wetness and pulled his hand back. Apparently, this was what the clerk met. For some reason, it didn't quite bother him, and he heard some sort of hushed conversation in the adjacent booth.

The blare of the cheap porno movie in the booth next to him was loud and obnoxious, but the grunts of the two men in it cut through the fake moans. It dawned on him. There were men, in these booths, having sex with each other.

He was, scared, and excited. His pulse pounded, his curiosity was peaked, and he wondered what it felt like.

The movie flicked off and his hand went instinctively to his pocket and found no tokens there. This irritated him and he had a few dollars left so decided to get more.

He unlatched the door and opened it, bumping into something.

"Oh," he said, as he realized he hit someone, in fact it was the beefy man.

"I'm sorry," Kyle said.

"It's okay, kid," he said. His breath smelled of peppermints and he grinned. He had a big bushy mustache and a friendly style.

"You're new here, aren't ya?" He asked.

Kyle nodded.

The big man staggered a bit, looking a touch drunk. He reached out his hand and said, "I'm Mike."

"Kyle," he said, shaking the calloused hand.

Kyle smiled, he needed this friendliness. It had been a long time since he'd been greeted warmly, anywhere.

He heard a flouncing, bubbling noise in the background as the woman in the skirt came by.

"Now Mikey, give the guy a chance. Geeze." She said.

Kyle did a double take, and realized she was a he, and a very flamboyant he at that.

Mike smiled and slapped her on the back, "Jesus, Darla, I'm just trying to be sociable."

"You are a flirt. Not at all a proper, dignified lady." She said, her long painted nails waving in the air. She reached out her hand and shook Kyle's hand.

"I'm Darla, darling'. Vancouver's queen-in-residence." She smiled, her lipstick glowed slightly in the dark light.

"So what brings you down to our tawdry little hole in the wall?" She inquired.

"Um, well, I live across the street. Never been here, thought I'd check it out," Kyle said.

Mike reached over with an arm and hugged Kyle affectionately. Kyle's heart leaped, feeling scared, but certainly liking the physical contact.

"Well you came to the right place, at the right time. All the regulars are here now, before it turns into a meat market."

"Meat market?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah when the bars get busy, we get the spillover. Lotta rude guys, showoffs, crap like that. I mean, it's fine if you're young like you and can get anything you like, but us old guys, we get left behind."

Kyle thought for a moment.

"I'm, um, pretty new," he said meekly.

Darla squealed and she clapped her hands, "a virgin!"

Kyle was glad there were no bright lights for he was crimson red. He'd had sex with a couple of women so wasn't quite a virgin.

"Well, no," Kyle said.

"It's okay, Kyle," Mike had retained his grasp, it was more friendly now. "We all had to start some where, you know? Like I said, your timing is great, it's a zoo later on. I can show you all the regulars, I think everybody's here."

He spun Kyle around and the guy he was talking to in the corner was kissing another man. Mike tilted his head and whispered into Kyle's ear:

"That's Henry and Rob. They have an on-again, off-again sort of thing going. When they fight, they screw other guys, and when they don't, they screw each other. It's weird, but it works for them."

Darla spoke up, "and they throw a great barbecue. Last summer they had James and Markus over for a three-day weekend. Rumor mill says they used a full can of Crisco to cook hamburgers."

Kyle's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He couldn't figure out if Darla was kidding or not.

Mike searched around, and pointed a thin man out with long fingers holding a cigarette. "That's Frankie. Com'on, let's go meet him."

Kyle allowed himself to be walked over, and found Frankie to have the most wonderful blue eyes. Even in the dim light, they were a soft blue, like a slice of the sky. Kyle smiled at him as he was introduced.

The quartet chatted about the stuff of life, and made Kyle feel even more at home. They talked about the Trailblazers, the Seahawks, and the impending trade of the Portland Beavers. Kyle was really a comic geek though, and really didn't know much about sports.

"Anybody up for a smoke?" Frankie asked.

Kyle wasn't a smoker, but Darla was and they headed outside.

Mike turned to Kyle, "so whaddya think? Cool peeps, huh?"

Kyle smiled and nodded.

Mike looked around and softly put his finger on Kyle's face and lips.

"Enough of the social life. Want to play?" He grinned.

Kyle's pulse pounded, his heart tripping like a jackhammer. He could only nod.

"Go find an empty, I'll be right there."

Kyle looked about, and in dark room, he realized he was going to make a choice. He bit his lips and looked along the booths, and spied one cracked open. He went to it, and found it empty as Mike trudged back through the bead screen, a few tokens glimmering in his hand. He nodded at Kyle, and Kyle walked in.

Mike sat on the bench next to him and pumped tokens into the machine. Instantly it came to life. He tapped at the button and found one where two men were mounting one man, orally and anally.

"Wow," Kyle said.

"Pretty hot, huh?" Mike asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, doesn't it like, hurt back there?" Kyle asked.

"If you do it wrong, yeah. Most people use something to take the edge off, though, like some poppers or rush or something."

Kyle nodded not knowing what either of those things was, and he felt the hot, minty breath of Mike fill the room as he leaned toward him and spoke.

"So what you like, huh?"

Kyle turned, scared, his being in the corner, and Mikes lips close to him. He gulped and then just reached his face up close, closing his eyes, his thickness straining his jeans.

Mike's bushy mustache and stubble of bead was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, it scratched him, and that stimulated him further. His tongue betrayed his fear and softly licked at Mike's lips.

"I like that," Mike said.

Kyle leaned up more and gently rubbed his slickened lips against Mike's face at the base of his nose and kissed him again.

Mike's eyes were half lidded and he tried to turn toward Kyle as best he could, softly stroking his strawberry blond hair.

Kyle met him, his tongue probing touching Mike's tongue and gently suckling it into his mouth.

Mike reached up and held Kyle's head, softly moving his head back and forth, his tongue invading Kyle's mouth in a dominant, yet gentle manner. Kyle was flush, his tool at full attention, and acheing.

Mike pulled back and softly nosed Kyle in a very tender, delicate way.

He asked, "Want to come home with me? I live about three blocks away. No roomie." Softly he stroked Kyle's bulge with his left hand, feeling a soft drip of moistness eek out of the denim.

Kyle was immediately scared, and aroused. Mike sensed his trepidation and said, "I think I even got a little smoke at home. Might relax you some. I got some tapes we can watch."

"Smoke?" Kyle asked.

"Weed, baby. Little Mary Jane." He grinned.

Kyle had never smoked pot, but decided this was the night for new things.

"Okay," Kyle said, "I need you go to nice on me, though. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Sure you do," Mike said.

"No, really, I've never touched a guy before," Kyle said.

"You've touched yourself, I'm sure," He said squeezing Kyle's cloth-entombed basket tenderly.

Kyle nodded.

"Touching me won't be much different." With that, he took Kyle's right hand and laid it upon his own jeans.

Kyle's eyes lit up like the Forth of July, this cock was a piece of meat, and it poked his hand as he rubbed the tip through the cloth.

"Just like that." Mike said.

The monitor clicked off, and they sat in the darkness for a few minutes feeling up each other, and kissing softly. In the distance, they heard moaning of another couple in another booth, and grinned at each other before heading off into the afternoon sun.