Doin' Business With Mike
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,319
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,319
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Doin' Business With Mike
It’s a little early when you pull in and park by the air pump. You sprawl in the driver’s seat, smoking Merit 100’s down to the filter, and listening to the country station: Some shit about lovin’ your girlfriend in her tight blue jeans; or maybe it’s lovin’ your Momma in her tight blue jeans.
Out here, there’s nothing but the gas station. Used to be a lot of folks stopped here; then they built the new Citgo, out by the highway intersection; now it’s just a few cars go by, and hardly any of them stop.
Watching the road, scanning the cars; some fake-ass cowboy is singing about America now. A lot of places you’d spot Mike right away, but here all the cars are American, they’re all dusty, and they all have the drivers’ windows open.
”He’s eight years old,” -- Mike’s a crazy sonuvabitch, and his breath smells like a truck stop men’s room, but he knows his boyflesh. -- ”mouth like a pussy on him, and wait’ll you see his ass!” -- And he shaped the outlines of a little pair of hips with his hands. It’s no good thinking about where he gets ‘em; somehow he keeps finding ‘em, and then he tells you, catching you in the bar maybe, and whispering a few words while you wait for your beer.
Then you meet him here; he pulls up in his old Econoline, brings ‘em out of the back – He gives ‘em something first; you can see it in their wide dark eyes, the fake blank smiles on their little faces.
”You never saw one like this before.” Mike laughed when he told him, in the bar on Friday. ”Big blue eyes, yellow curly hair; his Momma oughta took them curls off him; he looks like a girl.” Ain’t just his breath that stinks; his whole body stinks, just like a load of hogs on the Interstate. ”Fucks like a girl too.”
Little slut-boys in the back of the Econoline: They’ve probably been fucked 100 times before you even see ‘em, but Mike swears they’re new. And you take ‘em every time. Because Mike knows how to find the pretty ones; his prices are low; and he don’t ask a lot of questions.
Out here, there’s nothing but the gas station. Used to be a lot of folks stopped here; then they built the new Citgo, out by the highway intersection; now it’s just a few cars go by, and hardly any of them stop.
Watching the road, scanning the cars; some fake-ass cowboy is singing about America now. A lot of places you’d spot Mike right away, but here all the cars are American, they’re all dusty, and they all have the drivers’ windows open.
”He’s eight years old,” -- Mike’s a crazy sonuvabitch, and his breath smells like a truck stop men’s room, but he knows his boyflesh. -- ”mouth like a pussy on him, and wait’ll you see his ass!” -- And he shaped the outlines of a little pair of hips with his hands. It’s no good thinking about where he gets ‘em; somehow he keeps finding ‘em, and then he tells you, catching you in the bar maybe, and whispering a few words while you wait for your beer.
Then you meet him here; he pulls up in his old Econoline, brings ‘em out of the back – He gives ‘em something first; you can see it in their wide dark eyes, the fake blank smiles on their little faces.
”You never saw one like this before.” Mike laughed when he told him, in the bar on Friday. ”Big blue eyes, yellow curly hair; his Momma oughta took them curls off him; he looks like a girl.” Ain’t just his breath that stinks; his whole body stinks, just like a load of hogs on the Interstate. ”Fucks like a girl too.”
Little slut-boys in the back of the Econoline: They’ve probably been fucked 100 times before you even see ‘em, but Mike swears they’re new. And you take ‘em every time. Because Mike knows how to find the pretty ones; his prices are low; and he don’t ask a lot of questions.