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Wrong Side of the Tracks, Part 1

by Rusty


Author’s note: The characters involved in sexual activities in this series are 18 or older. The word boy refers to a young male 18 or older.

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I know, I should have known better -- people warned me not to go over there. It was dangerous – I might get mugged if I did. During the day, though, it was okay to drive through there. I did that every day to get to work. Poor neighborhood, pawnshops, guys loitering around – probably selling drugs. I kept my windows rolled up and the doors locked when I went through there.

Actually, I didn’t really have to drive through the ghetto – there was another way to go. I couldn’t explain it to you at the time why I was drawn there. I, myself, couldn’t understand why I did it.

It had something to do with the basketball court – the one at the Projects. Or, I should say, the guys on the basketball court. Sometimes, even in the early spring, a few might have their shirts off. Seeing them stirred deep, disturbing emotions in me that I tried to deny.

It was a Saturday--a day that I didn’t even have to go to work, that my compulsion took me there again. About six guys were playing, basketball, a few more standing around. A young black man, shirt off, dribbled and leapt, stretching and twisting his lean body as he sunk the shot. He glanced over at me, grinning triumphantly. I looked straight ahead and drove on, my heart pounding with a strange excitement

Then I did something really stupid. I parked my car where I thought it might be safe and walked back to the court. I felt conspicuous in my whiteness -- you never saw a Caucasian around there. The brown and black young men looked at me briefly, and then turned their attention back to the game. I watched them for quite a while through the chain-link fence. I was enthralled with their antics and the wildness of their play. They jived each other in ghetto-talk that I could barely understand. Some spoke Spanish or had Spanish accents, while others talked black ghetto English. I felt like I was in a foreign country.

Occasionally, the ball was knocked over in my direction and they would scramble for it, and I could see them up close and even smell them. It was tremendously exciting to be so close to them, but I was glad that the fence was between us -- they were a rough-looking bunch. That fence sort of symbolized the feeling I had of being separate from them in race and culture. I had a strange feeling of wishing that I could be one of them, and sadness in knowing that I couldn’t be.

There was a public restroom near by. I had to pee real bad so I went in. The place was pretty grungy with graffiti and the smell of urine. I stood in front of a dirty urinal, pulled out my peter and was about to piss when someone entered and walked up to the urinal beside me.

“Wussup?” he said. I took that as being friendly.

I glanced at him, “Not much. You?” He was Latino, dark-skinned and very thuggy-looking. His presence made me so nervous that I couldn’t let go and urinate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull out his dong. He started pissing. I stole a glance at his dick – it was dark brown and thick. He was uncut. I felt a rush of sex hormones so strong that it made me dizzy. I felt like an idiot, standing there and not being able to urinate while his thick stream of yellow piss splashed into the urinal.

Finally, as he was finishing up, I was able to start pissing. I couldn’t keep myself from catching another look at his dick. He had the foreskin pulled back, revealing a maroon glans. He shook his dick and put it back in his pants. He turned and went toward the door. I washed my hands and turned to leave. He was standing in front of the door, looking at me. He was about nineteen years old, dressed in a black leather jacket and blue jeans with a knit cap on his head. His jacket was partially open in front and I could see some naked, brown skin. He would have been nice-looking had he not looked like a thug.

“Do you want something?” he asked in an American-Latin accent.

“No, nothing – thanks,” I answered.

“Grass? Coke? I can get it for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” I answered nervously.

He was staring at me in an unfriendly way. “Do you have any money?” he asked.

“No, I left my money at home.”

He came toward me. Let me see your wallet.”

I backed up, suddenly scared. “No,” I said.

He backed me into a corner and came right up to me. My hair stood on end! He suddenly reached out and grabbed my wallet from my back pocket. He took out the twenty-dollar bill that was in it and dropped the wallet on the floor.

“A little white punk like you should know better than to come down here. It’s dangerous. What do you want here?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to watch you guys play basketball,” I answered in a shaky voice.

I reached down to pick up my wallet. He pushed me and I landed on my butt with my back against the wall.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He pointed at the bulge in his pants. “You want spic-dick, don’t you?”

“No, no,” I stammered.

“Then why were you looking at it, then?”

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up onto my knees.

“Here, I’ll give you a good look.”

He unzipped his jacket and opened it up. He was not wearing a shirt. He loosened his belt, unbuttoned his fly, and pulled down his pants enough to reveal his cock. He was not wearing underwear. His thick brown meat protruded from a very thick mass of black hair.

“Look at it! This is what you came for, no?”

The color of his prick was even darker than the skin of his body. The wrinkled foreskin was thick and covered his glans completely. I tried to get up but he pushed me down. He got right up in front of my face with it. He grabbed my hand and put it on his prick, wrapping my fingers around it. It was so much bigger than my own.

“Like it? Feel it – it’s okay.”

It was starting to swell in my hand and the foreskin was drawing back. That scared me even more.

“I’ve got to go,” I said.

“No you don’t. You came for Latino cock and you’re going to get it!”

He held me by the hair with one hand and with his dick in the other, started rubbing the drooling end of it all over my face. He drug it over my upper lip and parked it under my nostrils.

“Smells good? You like the smell of brown cock?”

I held my breath as long as I could, and then had to breathe in the stench of his unwashed Latino cock. It was so ripe I almost vomited.

“What’s wrong, puto? Is this your first time?”

I tried to turn my head away but he turned it roughly toward his crotch again.

“Lick it! Lick my dick, puto.”

He started slapping me with it. It had swelled almost to full erection now and hurt when he hit me with it.

“Lick it!” he commanded me in a loud voice. I was afraid the other thugs outside would hear him so I had to do what he said.

I licked the disgusting thing. He made me lick his hairy balls and up and down the shaft. His thick meat was now sticking out and up, fully hard. The foreskin had stretched back leaving only the ridge of his glans covered. The maroon glans was covered with slimy, stinking crud.

“Now suck it! Suck my Latino cock, puto, because that is what you came here for.”

He held me by the hair and forced his brown dick past my lips and deep into my mouth.

It was quiet except for the slurping sounds and the muffled shouts of the guys outside as they played ball. I don’t remember much of what happened. I was in a state of shock, I guess. When it was over, he left and I picked up my wallet and almost ran out of the restroom. The Latino thug was standing with the others. They turned and laughed as I ran for my car.

I was sure that I was now cured of those disturbing feelings that I had been fighting for so long. I would never feel compelled to go to the ghetto again. I felt guilty and ashamed. I was a cocksucker for a Latino thug.

In the safety of my own room, I lied down on the bed and relaxed. I could taste the thug’s cum in my mouth. My hands stank of his cock. I thought of what I had done. I told myself, “I will never suck a cock again.”

I jacked myself off while holding a stinky hand under my nose.

To be continued…

I’d appreciate your comments and suggestions. rusty@moonman.com

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21 Gay Erotic Stories from Rusty

Amazon Adventure

The jungle of Peru, the Amazon port of Iquitos, I got off the riverboat and took a room in a "pension,” an economic boarding house. The bathroom was communal. I waited with soap and towel to use the shower. A young man came out dressed in a towel only. I immediately felt a rush of hormones, of excitement and desire, on beholding his beauty. He was a mixed-blood native of the

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 1

The following story took place in a town in southern Mexico. Raul and I were eating in a restaurant when a cute young tourist came in. As all of the tables were occupied, he looked around, and seeing me motion to him, came to sit at our table. He was the same age as Raul, 18 years old, and I was attracted to him immediately, although my usual preference is for dark-skinned

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 2

(All characters in the following story are 18 years of age or older) I awoke from my nap with a hard-on. I still had the taste of Raul's and Tommy's cum in my mouth and was tempted to jack-off but decided against it. I should conserve my juices for later, after all I am not a teenager any more. I took a stroll towards the park. Cute, young Mexican lads were everywhere. It

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 3

It was a beautiful-as-usual Mexican morning and I was sitting on a bench in the town square, enjoying the fresh air, beautiful flowers and cute Mexican boys. Tommy came walking up. "Buenos dias, Rusty." "Buenos dias, Tommy. I thought you were going to show up at the hotel last night." Tommy sat down beside me. "I couldn't go. Had to spend some time with my parents. They are

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 4

Tommy brought his things up to my room that night. I was thrilled that I would have this cute, young man as my roommate. "Here, Tommy, this is your bed. I will pay the main part of the rent -- you just pay the extra that they will charge for your staying here." "Yeah, that's cool. My parents left me a little money for my birthday but I have to be careful with it." "Your

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 5

He wanted his money first. I probably could have backed out at that point by not paying him. But with the intoxicating smell of his penis in my face, and the taste of his Mexican juices in my mouth, there was no way that I wasn't going to go through with this. I paid him. I pulled the loose skin of his brown dick back to completely expose the glans, then rolled a Magnum rubber

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 6

Jaime was a little guy, barely five feet tall. I offered him my hand, but instead of grabbing it firmly, he only touched his palm to mine, gently, Indian style. Indians, most of them, are not overtly macho like ordinary Mexicans. They consider machismo behavior to be rude. Jaime was a polite, respectful little guy. We started walking, Tommy, Jaime and I, toward the hotel. The other muchachos

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 7

It was chilly in the early morning and Tommy and I were cuddled in the spoon position, his naked back against my naked front, my hand on his smooth, flat stomach. I love cuddling, probably more than sex, especially with a cute boy like Tommy. I felt a dull throbbing in my butt and remembered the fucking that I had gotten the night before. I felt behind me -- my rectum was swollen and puckered out

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 8

Tommy went to the door, naked, cracked it open a bit, and seeing that it was Raul, let him in. Raul had his soccer ball in his hands. "Quihubole (whassup)?" he said. "Quihubole," we answered. "We have to hurry," Raul said. “We're playing the guys from across the river today." Then, speaking to Tommy, "Did you get sucked yet?" "Yeah," Tommy answered, "once." Raul started stripping

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part 9

The muchachos stripped down to their bikinis before getting into the canoes. The small flotilla set off for the opposite bank of the river, to the soccer game at Boca Grande. The current was strong, sweeping us downstream, while the young men paddled furiously. I was sitting in the middle of our canoe watching Raul’s shoulder, arm, and back muscles working under his smooth, brown skin. Behind

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part10

(Author’s note: All of the characters in this series are of legal age.) I was sitting on the bank of the river watching the approaching storm when Tommy emerged from the shack and sat beside me. “Well, did you do it?” I asked. Tommy turned and opened his mouth to show me the big wad of Raul’s cum that was on his tongue. “I had him squirming all over the place – he loved it!” “What about

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part11

Like triplets, wet and naked in the womb, we cuddled on the muddy floor of the hut while the storm raged, at last falling asleep in the comfort of our intimate embrace. I was the first to awaken at dawn, and contented myself with the feel of Tommy’s naked backside against my front. My hand rested on his flat, smooth stomach--I let it slide down to cup his sleeping little member. My own cock,

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part12

Raul and his girlfriend were kissing on a park bench while the girl’s younger sister and aunt kept watch from another bench across the way. It was early evening and the town square was alive with kids running and laughing, and teenage boys and girls checking each other out. I was sipping a cold Margarita in a sidewalk cafe, enjoying the cool air, the scent of tropical flowers and the songs of

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part13

Author’s note: The characters involved in sex in this series are of legal age. Caution: The content of this chapter may disgust even the more perverted readers. Skip this chapter unless you have a strong stomach. ……………………… The two naked boys beside me were still asleep when I awoke. They were cuddled in the spoon position, just like they were when Raul fucked Tommy the night before.

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part14

I awoke in the early morning to the sounds of groaning and panting. I opened my eyes and gazed into the face of the beautiful Mexican boy beside me. His face was contorted in that weird expression that he gets when he is about to cum. Another wet dream, I thought. Then I heard slurping sounds. I looked down and saw Tommy, between Raul’s legs and about to take his orgasm in the mouth.

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part15

I filled the enema bag with warm water and had Tommy get on the floor. “Okay, kneel! Put your elbows on the floor and spread your knees wide. Tilt your butt up a little. So you never had an enema, huh? Well it won’t hurt--trust me. And it will get you nice and clean for Raul.” Marveling at the sight of the boy’s cute white butt, I felt my own penis swelling in my pants. Tommy’s ass

Bottomboy For Mexicans, Part16

Tommy came out of the bathroom naked and clean from his shower and enema. Raul was reclining naked on the bed, playing with his stiff brown cock while staring at the photo of Tommy’s girlfriend. Tommy stood at the mirror and fiddled with his little hair spikes, trying to make them stand up. “Man!” said Raul, “she looks like a good fuck! Does she give good head too?” “No. We haven’t

Mexican Jungle Boys, Part 1

Separate vacations: Mary to visit our grandkids and me to tropical Mexico! Beside me on the plane sat a middle-aged fat man named Bill, a friendly guy who told me about the interesting tourist sites that I would see. He, however, was not going there for the ruins of ancient cultures, but for the Mexican boys. He enjoyed telling me about how easy they were to pick up, take to the

Mexican Jungle Boys, Part 2

The village was nothing more than six mud and palm huts. Marcelo and I, surrounded by a crowd of happy children, went to meet his family. I was a big celebrity! Marcelo's father and mother received me cordially into their humble home where I was given a meal of fish, rice and bananas. Everybody was friendly and smiling; I felt grand. Marcelo and two of his brothers led me down

Wrong Side of the Tracks, Part 1

Author’s note: The characters involved in sexual activities in this series are 18 or older. The word boy refers to a young male 18 or older. ………………………………………. I know, I should have known better -- people warned me not to go over there. It was dangerous – I might get mugged if I did. During the day, though, it was okay to drive through there. I did that every day to get to work. Poor

Wrong Side of the Tracks, Part 2

Author’s note: All characters in this series that are involved in sex are 18 or older. … A number of weeks had gone by since I was forced to suck that Latino thug’s cock. I was more or less recuperated from the trauma of it, except for an occasional nightmare that I woke up out of with a thumping heart and a wad of semen in my boxers. I couldn’t keep him out of my masturbation

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