Swim Team Ch. 06 - Dwayne

Dwayne let out a yell, and ropes of jizz splattered against the back of my throat, running deep inside me. My groin had reached the top of some roller coaster, then plunged. My taint pulsed, and a geyser of semen erupted from my tip, eyes popping wide. I withdrew from Dwayne's drained penis and looked down at mine.

"What was that?" I arched my neck to see his face, my mouth ajar, my brows tight against my nose and squinting.

With a silent chuckle, Dwayne said, "I fucked you so hard; I gave your brain an orgasm."

Panic gripped me. "Is that normal? How—what, that's never happened before." I said, rambling.

He laughed. "It's normal and fucking hot!" he said, stepping away and to the side, tucking his cock and balls through the leg band, and drawing up his pants.

I licked my lips again and swallowed, staring blankly forward at the porn playing on the TV. My eyes doubled and blurred, the moans on the screen distent. Finally, I shook my head, returning to consciousness. The braingasm felt good but didn't compare to a regular one. My cock didn't soften afterward, and I continued to crave a complete release.

At least, I wouldn't pass out.

"Dwayne, can I go now?" I asked.

"Two more Johns are lined up," he said.

"But I—"

"Hush," he said. My jaw dropped, and my face burned. "We ain't done tonight."

I turned away from him, my teeth clenched, heart pounding. Then, back to him, I spun, "Fuck you, take me home," I said.

With his palms interlaced behind him, he stepped slowly toward me, looking down at my bare body. My teeth flew from clenching to chattering; my hands began to shake as well. He folded his arms about four feet to the side of the bed and me.

"We got a good thing startin' up here, don't fuck it up. I'll take care of you, and you take care of us," Dwayne said.

A quiet lingered; I held my breath.

"Got it?" Dwayne asked.

I jumped, then nodded.

"Good," he said, returning out the door, and locking it.

Three more men visited my room, two paid for, and received blowjobs. The last John chose to observe me from behind and stroke. I was supposed to pretend he wasn't there. Finally, I rubbed a powerful orgasm out.

I glanced at my watch, 5:20 AM. I was exhausted, and my brain needed a break.

From the door, "Ok, kid, let's get you home," Dwayne said.

Relief flowed through my skin. I slipped Stanley's shorts on again, trudged through the motel room door, and hopped into the passenger seat of the station wagon; my eyes clamped shut.

A blink later, and he braked in front of the house my dad and I lived under.

How did he know where I lived? I tried to be so careful. He knows enough now to keep me under tabs. Maybe that's why he's letting me go.

He turned to me. "Rest and get to school on time. Catch up on sleep tonight. Fridays are busy," he said.

Was he following me? Watching me? "Where's my money?" I asked.

"I'll keep the cash safe for you," Dwayne said.

"What? We never—."

"Hey," he said, his voice raised. Then, softer, he added, "I'll take care of you. People get suspicious when teenagers carry hundreds in cash around."

I folded my arms; my lips pressed tight, eyes glaring forward. "This is fucking bullshit."

"You'll feel different when you have regulars; they'll pay to take you shopping, to dinner, to, well, lots of things."

I huffed, "I need at least five bucks for lunch."

Almost like performing a parlor trick, a bill appeared with a quick sleight of hand.

I snatched it immediately, crinkling it into a ball and glaring at him as I opened stepped out.

With a flick, I slammed the car door. The window descended. I'll call you at 10 PM Friday to arrange pickup. We'll start at 11 PM.

"But I might be ha--"

"Eleven," he said in a low, loud growl.

My throat clenched.

He chucked my backpack thru the opening, and I caught it.

"Fine," I muttered and turned away.

Dad was lying on his stomach on the Linoleum-kitchen floor. I maneuvered around the empty bottles to my room and locked it behind me.

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