My son, My trade

Word quickly spread through the old industrial town about the high school basketball jock over on Arthur Avenue who sucked a mean cock and took a hard fuck in return for cash.  Discreetly, of course.  There were whispers down on the waterfront among dock workers, casual asides on the packing plant assembly line, bathroom banter at the steel mill where the teen's father used to work and hushed revelations at the firehouse.

Although wary of a threat to his liquor license owner Ralph Hilliard, a regular of the boy's, transformed a portion of the rarely-used basement of his establishment into a fuck den for Marc and his "clients," most of whom were bar regulars.  There was a queen-sized mattress on the floor, a sling courtesy of his bi-brother Georgie, hanging from the rafters, and a partition at the foot of the stairs with two glory hole cut-outs for use by those who chose to remain anonymous.  It was all rather seedy.  Bare concrete floor, dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, damp and rough hewn concrete block walls and the heady scent of sex mixing with the musty odor of the place.  A random end table housed a gallon jug of lubricant and rolls of paper towels for clean-up afterwards.

Each afternoon at about five-thirty, after most of the local laborers had punched their clock for the day and headed out to Ralph's, Marc made his much-anticipated appearance at the bar.  He arrived all teen smiles, slapping regulars on the back, engaging in idle chit-chat, usually about the latest game, before disappearing behind the door to the back room which led to his basement hangout.  His "engagement" always coincided with his father, Buck, manning the bar.  Buck was his body guard, so to speak, not trusting any other to look out for his interest.  Buck was making a good buck off Marc's ass now that he'd put him to work.  Axel, the substitute bartender, couldn't be trusted not to give the boy away.  By now most knew the score.  The required amount subtly passed to Buck across the bar rewarded the customer with an allotted time in the den of debauchery.

Much to Ralph's delight word of mouth had increased the bar's clientele---and profits.  Buck thought he knew most in this town but lately there were faces he had never seen before.  Or hadn't  in a while.  Such was the case the night a long unseen---but hardly forgotten----acquaintance came through the door.

Marc had been at his summer "job" for a little over an hour.  He'd come in his usual jovial self at half past eight dressed as one would expect from a teen.  T-shirt promoting some band none of them had ever heard of, baggy mid-thigh length cotton shorts, name-brand sneakers and ball cap atop his locks with the bill turned backward.  He spent a little time good-naturedly chatting with some of the old timers before retrieving the key to the basement from his father and conspicuously exiting through a door in the back of the bar.  Tommy Dunlap, Marc's friend Joey's dad, wasted little time slipping Buck some cash and leaving the main area to join the boy.  When he returned a little over half an hour later he appeared flushed but quite satisfied. Tucking his shirt back into his jeans he sheepishly crossed the room to rejoin his buds.  Bobby Bonerz, who had already paid his way, nearly fell over his feet in his haste to take the place Dunlap had vacated.

As Bobby was shutting the door behind him the front door drew inward and a once-familiar face stepped into the crowded, smoky room.  Midway through drawing a brew from the tap, Buck's look of surprise turned into one of delight when he spotted the newcomer.  It had been a few years, but Lance Majors was as movie star handsome now as he was when they worked construction together.  Buck could have sworn Lance's perfect white teeth sparkled when the handsome man saw him there behind the bar.  Lance moved through the rowdy throng and extended his hand to the other man.

"Hey, Buck.  It's been awhile."  His voice was as resonant as ever.

"Lance Fuckin' Majors, you old sonofabitch."  Buck took his hand in a firm grasp and slapped him on the shoulder with the other.  "Where in hell have you been?"

Lance shrugged his shoulders.  "Here and there.  You still livin' in the place down the street?"

"Still there," Buck allowed.  "What you drinkin' these days, buddy?  It's on me."

After considering a moment Lance replied, "I'd take some Dewars and water since you're offering."

Preparing the cocktail Buck said, "You're about the last person I expected to see walk through that door.  How many years has it been anyways?"

"A couple," Lance replied, taking a seat on the bar stool and looking over his shoulder to survey the crowd.  "Seems like Ralph's is doing a pretty good business these days.  Wasn't like that so much years back."

Caught off guard for a moment, Buck quickly rebounded.  "Guess the word is out I pour a pretty good beer," he said with a too-wide smile.

Lance grinned at that.  "Now let's see how you do with a Scotch," he said as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. 

Buck took stock of his former co-worker.  Lance was splendidly handsome while still maintaining a sense of simmering machismo.  His almost perfectly symmetrical face sported a strong jaw and full mouth, perfect nose and clear electric blue eyes framed by dark lashes.  Tiny crinkles fanned out from the corners when he smiled, but otherwise he could pass for younger than his thirty-seven.  His hair was still thick, short and chestnut, parted high on one side.  While Buck had gained a bit of a gut Lance appeared to be as hard-bodied as ever. 

"So'd you ever marry up?" Buck asked conversationally.

"Hell no!" Lance snorted.  And it was a good thing, too.  Women had always fawned over Lance, who was a fuck-'em-and-leave-'em kind of rascal.  Buck guessed they still did.  "How 'bout you, Buck?  Ever take the plunge again?"

"Fuck no!" Buck replied, with emphasis.  "Once with that shit was enough for me."  Then, "How you been doin'?  Looks like you're all healed up from the accident."

"Only bothers me on rainy days," Lance allowed.  A few years back he, Buck and another steel worker were doing a job on a bridge when a girder came loose and sent them plunging forty feet into a muddy river.  Buck suffered a fracture to his vertebrae, Lance broke both legs and one arm and Sam Belford lost his life.  Knowing Lance as he did, even with his limbs in casts he probably had some cute nurse bouncing up and down on his randy dick.

Just then Bobby returned to the club.  Nearly everyone knew Bonerz was quick on the trigger---especially when buggering Marc---and weren't surprised when he returned such a short time later.  Lance briefly turned his attention to the site, and then casually looked back to Buck. 

"So what's been going on, Buck?" he asked.  "How you gettin' along?"

Before Buck could respond Dickie Amalfatano, muscle-bound Italian from the neighborhood came over and, looking directly at Buck, nodded and slapped two twenties on the bar.  Lance watched as Dickie casually strode over to the door Bobby had just exited while Buck scooped up the cash.  Buck appeared slightly frazzled, avoided eye contact with Lance and went about grabbing a rag to wipe down the nicked surface of the bar a short distance away.

Lance grinned and took another sip of the Scotch.  Looking into the smoky mirror directly across the way he said, a bit more loudly, "How's that son of yours, Buck?  What's his name?"  Snapping his fingers as if trying to remember.  "Matt? Michael? Something like that."  Glancing at the mirror he noticed several of the other patrons directing their attention toward him.

Buck returned to a spot in front of Lance and leaned against the bar on one elbow.  "Marc.  His name is Marc.  Good kid.  On the basketball team.  Gonna be graduating next year."

Lance stared him down.  "Word is that's not the only sport he's good at," he said tauntingly.

Buck's pulse quickened. 

"Forty bucks?  That's all you get?  Hell, Buck, if he's as good as I hear I'll throw you fifty."  And to prove the point he reached for his wallet and pulled out a fresh Grant which he placed before him next to his drink.

Buck hesitated.  "How'd you know?" he asked gruffly.

"Didn't.  At least not until just now.  There's this club I sometimes go to in the city.  Private.  You gotta know somebody who knows somebody.  You know what I mean?  I can get you in some time, if you want.  There's cunt all over the place.  You can fuck all night long.  Anyways, I happened to hear this guy, a trucker type, bragging about the hot teen boy ass he bought.  He was beered up just enough to spill it all.  Said it was the hottest piece he ever had, better than any bitch.  Surprised shit out of me when he named this place, my old hang out.  Now, you know me Buck," he went on, shrugging his shoulders and turning his palms upward in defeat, "I'm always up for a good fuck.  Had to come here and find out for myself.  I'm no fucking math whiz, that's for sure, but it wasn't hard to put it all together." 

Buck swallowed hard.  He supposed he should have figured their set-up would eventually leak out of town boundaries.  People talk.  Especially when they're tanked up.  Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing, after all.  His boy was already bringing in over a thousand a week, a damned sight better than he'd have pulled from a legit part-time job.  Free advertisement might bring in more business, for both Ralph's bar and the Hauser household.

Regaining his composure Buck searched Lance's face, covered the offered bill with his paw, slid it across the bar and deposited it in his shirt pocket.  "You're up next," he said before moving down the bar to attend to other drinking customers.

Lance spent the waiting game engaging in catch-up conversation with some of the regulars he knew from back when.  Every now and again he caught Buck giving him a sidelong glare.  Although he never voiced his suspicion, Lance always had the feeling Buck was never as incapacitated as he claimed from the work incident which took Sam Belford's life and laid him up with broken bones for months.  He was almost certain Buck feigned a good deal of his injury for insurance purposes.  Not that he blamed him.  The foreman on the job was a dick and majorly responsible for the incident.  They, and Belford's widow, received a decent settlement from their law suit, which it now appeared Buck was supplementing by whoring out his son. 

Although he probably had seen him at some point Lance didn't really remember Marc.  He was just some kid back then.  Now he was filled with anticipation at their meeting.  Lance was a tit and pussy kind of guy, not a cock and ass teaser.  Never even thought of throwing it to another dude.  Cripes, why would he when there was so much pussy being thrown at him?  But the rave reviews had him curious.  And there was something almost pleasantly depraved about the idea of fucking Buck's boy.  Lance was a stud who needed an injection of kink in his sex life.

In a while Amalfatano returned from his romp and headed directly to the bar for a shot and beer. Buck's eyes met Lance's.  The good looking man rose and deliberately sauntered over to the back door.  Pausing with his hand on the knob he glanced over his shoulder at Buck and, with a lopsided smirk, passed through the threshold.

The area was darkened, a storage room with shapes of boxes probably containing liquor.  The only shaft of light came from another doorway, opened part way.  Lance ventured over and pulled the door open completely to reveal a flight of worn stairs leading down to the basement area.  With only a dim bulb above to illuminate the way he carefully made his way down the creaking, worn steps.  At the bottom a crudely made partition separated the stairs from the remainder of the space.  Lance stepped around it and into the main arena.

Another bare bulb hung from the unfinished, raftered ceiling, highlighting the young man lying on a bare mattress.  Stretched out on his side and leaning on one elbow, he was bare except for the ball cap turned backwards on his head.  Like most his age, Marc was entertaining himself with his cell phone.  He looked up when Lance came into view, smiled and said, "Hey, dude.  What's up?"

Lance's legs instantly grew weak.  Little Marc had certainly grown up!  The teen was long limbed with a smooth, lean body showing definite signs of teenage musculature.  The dick hanging over his bottom thigh was man-sized.  His features were cute and wholesome, his voice deep and resonating.  Surely this boy couldn't really be Buck's son!

"Marc," he managed.  "D-do you remember me?"  He'd unabashedly claimed a good deal of pussy over the years, but this boy had him so nervous he was stammering.

Cocking a brow Marc got up to sit back on his heels and peered at the man.  In a matter of seconds recognition showed on his face.  How could he have forgotten?  In his formative years he'd beat off to fantasies of this hot guy multiple times.

"Sure I remember you," he announced with an endearing smile.  "You used to work with my Dad.  Weren't you laid up from that accident like Buck was?"

"I was," Lance nodded.  "But I'm all healed now."

"Good deal," the boy pleasantly responded.  "Lance, isn't it?"

Lance grinned.  "You do remember."

"Sure do."  Marc ran a hand over his chest as his eyes roved from head to toe over the man.  "Always thought you were the best of those guys Buck worked with."

Lance's grin widened.  "Did you now?"

Marc shrugged nonchalantly.  "Sure as shit."

"Well, you certainly have grown up into a handsome young man," Lance countered.  "I hear you're on the basketball team."  Lance could hardly believe it but he was boning up.  Over a boy.

His arousal was not lost on Marc.  "I'm into all kinds of sports," the boy teased.  Wetting his lips he continued, "Wanna play a little one on one right now?"

Lance rose to the bait. "I think I'm up for a challenge."  He stepped forward undoing the buttons on his shirt.  At the same time Marc crawled on his knees to the edge of the mattress to meet him and boldly placed his hand on Lance's crotch. 

"Nice cock," he said, looking up at the attractive man as the fished out the rising beast.  Lance, a bit of a narcissist, liked hearing that.  In fact, he'd heard it a lot.  A solid nine inches of man-meat arced out and up from a thatch of dark brown pubes.  The shaft was thick and smooth except for one thick, pulsing vein just below the surface winding haphazardly from the heavy root to the fat, mushroom shaped corona, its eye a deep gash pleading for attention.

Lance had never been aroused by the male species before.  Maybe it was because this was Buck's son.  And there was also the well-known fact that all those years ago he'd fucked Greta, Buck's ex.  Now Buck was offering their son up as a rental.  Those rave reviews over Marc's pussy were certainly not something for an adventurous cocksman like him to ignore. 

"Suck my dick, boy," Lance ordered.  Marc fixed his eyes on those of the stud and never once broke contact as he lavished his attention on Lance's prick.  His outstretched lips formed around the shapely head and his cheeks hollowed as he drew it into his wet mouth where he proceeded to voraciously suck while slashing his tongue over the bundle of sensitive nerves gathered under the horn.  His fist cork-screwed up and down the full length of the shaft while he sucked.  His free hand scooped up Lance's hefty ball sac, weighing it in his sweaty palm and squeezing as if sampling fruit at the market.

Lance's pronounced Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily.  After working the shirt off his frame he crossed his forearms, took hold of his wife beater by the hem and lifted it over his head.  Marc inhaled appreciatively as his hands slid up and over Lance's manly torso.  His chest was nicely, but not overly, developed with a coat of hair covering his man tits and bisecting his trunk as it trailed down past his navel to his groin. 

Marc's tongue skirted across the blunt surface of Lance's succulent fruit and stabbed between the thick folds of his pisshole.  Lance's muffled moan encouraged him to dig as deep as possible, flicking around in the eye.  At the same time his lips slid further down the throbbing shaft, taking more inside his working mouth.  As he gulped down more and more of it his tongue spiraled around the succulent cock.  At the midway point he halted, working on those initial inches and their cap with his talented mouth.  Lance's heated meat pulsed in his orifice and Marc tasted the first wave of the man's rich pre-cum. 

Taking Marc by the back of his ball-capped head Lance began to fuck his face.  Marc instantly let his jaw go slack and took it to the back of his throat.  Twisting his head from side to side he sucked on the thick meat as it struck the inside of one cheek, then the other, the ribbed roof of his mouth and glided over his lapping tongue.  Marc's true talent took hasty effect on Lance.  His head fell back on his shoulders in blissful delight and his eyes rolled upward.  Word on the street was that Marc was prime pussy; there hadn't been mention of what a hungry cock sucker he was.  Hooking his hands tighter behind the teen's head Lance amped up the speed of his thrusts, ramming his cock in and out of the boy's warm, wet mouth.  Marc valiantly took it all, slovenly slurping and gulping on the manly prick as it soared through his stretched pink lips.

Lance was a stud to rival the rest in this old shit hole of a town.  There had always been talk about the man being a player with the ladies and now Marc knew why.  The teen had long ago acknowledged his father's former work buddy as a handsome man.  But with his best attribute now at Marc's disposal Lance had moved up the boys list of favorites.  Enough dicking around, though.  It was time to show old Lance what he was really made of and guarantee a recurring customer.

Unbeknownst to Lance his every move was being monitored by Marc's father.  It had been Buck's idea.  Ralph, along with the assistance of a discreet techie friend, had implemented it.  A barely discernable spy cam had been secreted in the crumbling crevice of the cinder block wall.  From the app installed to his phone Buck could observe everything that went on in the basement room.  (Little did Buck know, Ralphie also had access to the feed.)  It wasn't as though Buck was a voyeur; it was purely for his son's safety.  More than a few unfamiliar faces had been walking through the front door with more than drinking on their mind.  Buck rarely rejected a customer. But his fatherly duty, after all, was to protect his son.  The phone app made that possible.

Lance was truly having his time with Marc.  Buck would never have thought the dog would go for boy pussy considering all the seemingly endless snatch he had readily available.  Then again, up until a few weeks ago it hadn't been something he himself had ever contemplated.  Most of the hopefuls in this bar were probably of the same thought.  All of them were macho men: truckers, bikers, blue-collar workers, husbands, dads and more.  There were no sissies in the group.  (Well, with the possible exception of Georgie Hilliard.  Everyone, including his wife, knew he took dick.)   Every one came with the anticipation of throwing down some money and taking forbidden pleasure with the boy in the basement.  Marc, his jock whore son, was far from discerning. 

If blame was to be placed it would certainly fall on the boy's mother, Buck's ex.  She spread her legs for all comers, too.  Even on their wedding night.  Probably was in the genes, the whoredom passed on to Marc.  Otherwise, Marc was a good kid.  An apt pupil at school, excelling at sports, sociable and well-liked.  Never had given Buck a problem.  Buck supposed he hadn't been the best father, the greatest influence on his son.  He'd done his share of drinking, hanging with the guys and bringing home the bimbos.  There was that one time, Marc was about nine, when the kid caught him fucking some bar fly on the sofa.  He hadn't forgotten the look of excitement on his son's face and should have realized then that the boy was destined for a life of hedonism. 

From the look of things Marc was really into Lance Majors.  Buck couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.  Lance always scored the best pussy.  Even when he was laid up after the construction site accident with a broken arm and two broken legs Buck would have bet his bank account old Lance was seducing some cutie into riding on his cock.  The way Marc was voraciously sucking on that beef stick it was a sure bet he'd have it up his asshole soon enough.  Reluctantly he moved away from his phone secreted under the bar to answer the call for another round of brews, hoping none would detect the excited bulge straining against the front of his jeans. 

Marc sucked the pistoning pisser like a cock hungry whore, groaning appreciatively when another surge of pre-cum washed over his taste buds.  Grasping Lance by his flexing buttocks and drawing him closer Marc all at once relaxed his throat as he'd long ago learned to do.  On Lance's next erratic thrust he lunged forward and took the cock down his wet throat.  Lance paused, his mouth agape, delighted shock registering on his handsome features.  Increasing pressure on the back of Marc's head while, at the same time, the boy wrapped his arms around Lance's glutes and hugged him closer, Lance sunk all nine inches between Marc's sweet teen lips.  He remained still with his blunt helmet lodged deep in Marc's throat enjoying the heavenly tightness and the titillating sensation of the teen's muscles convulsing around his buried meat. 

"FUUUUUUUUCKKK!" he gushed.  No bitch had ever taken him that deep before.  This kid, Buck's son, lewdly had the entirety of his manhood pulsing in his throat.  Lance's heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he was overcome by raunchy desire like never before.  Drawing back he watched while inch after inch of drenched meat reappeared from between Marc's widespread lips.  When the head popped out of his throat Marc went crazy on it, sucking and slurping like a boy gone wild.  Again he was looking up at Lance, gauging his reaction with little tears escaping from the corners of his angelic eyes.  Growling, Lance ripped the ball cap from the boy, again took him back by the back of the head with his fingers entwined in his hair, shoved his cock straight down the boy's throat and commenced deep fucking his face with reckless abandon.

Lance's bloated balls banged against his chin with each frantic thrust which sent that impressive cock knob soaring through the tight channel of Marc's throat.  He yanked Lance's pants all the way down to the floor and ran his hands up and down his limbs, barely noticing the faded scars camouflaged by manly hair.  He grasped Lance's now-sweaty buttocks, pulled them apart and tickled the moist hole with the tips of his fingers.  His slutty actions worked to spur Lance into heightened aggressiveness.  A lesser cock sucker might have faltered by now.  But not Marc.  It was always a thrill having a big cock buried down his throat.

Although in pig heaven, Lance realized that if he kept up like this he would soon be losing his nut.  And he desperately wanted a piece of Marc's ass.  To see if the boy lived up to the hype.  Almost reluctantly he began to pull out.  Marc refused to give him up, latching onto the cock head and holding it tight between his lips.  Ultimately, Lance was the victor in that struggle.  With a raunchy squelching sound his big cock broke free.  Waving mightily in the air it was dripping saliva and had turned a deep shade of purple, its veins pulsing heavily beneath the surface.  Kicking himself out of the pants pooled around his ankles and grabbing Marc under the armpits he hoisted him up, tossed him over a shoulder and carried him to the nearby sling suspended from the ceiling in the seductively darkened basement.  Marc positioned himself on his back in the device, legs spread and teen hole winking seductively. 

The expectation in the teen's eyes heightened Lance's arousal.  The kid really wanted it just as much as, if not more than, any bitch he'd banged before.  All sexed up he was invitingly running those palms, which handled a basketball so well, along the insides of his widely spread thighs.  Pumping a good dose of lube from the nearby container into his paw and coating his dick Lance watched Marc's fingertips as they skimmed over the wrinkles of his pucker which fluttered open like a little mouth and emitted a trickle of spent cum.  Was it Bonerz's?  Amalfatano's?  For that matter, how many had seeded the young man before them?  It suddenly occurred to Lance that he hadn't need to lube up at all.  Probably would be like sliding his dick through melted butter.  It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken sloppy seconds.  His mighty dick pulsed with the thought of these raunchy circumstances.

"Fuck me, Mr. Majors," Marc seductively begged.  "Fuck me good and hard!"

Gripping his nine-incher by the hairy base Lance stepped up between the spread of Marc's youthful loins and guided the fat knob to the boy's pulsing ass mouth.  The surprisingly taut lips gave way easily, allowing Lance's purplish cock head to sink inside.  Lance sighed huskily as Marc's sphincter clamped securely around his knob and lathed it with a sweet warmth.  The muscles just inside the kid's ass went to work like a score of little mouths sucking him off from inside.  Clenching his teeth Lance bore onward, breaking the grasp and forging into the swampy depths of Marc's irresistible pussy.  The further he went, the better it got.  Marc's insides were slick and velvety, the muscles along the channel pulsating, grasping and slurping on his meat.  Now deeply imbedded in the basketball jock's ass Lance grasped the chains suspending the sling from the ceiling, threw back his head and emitted a long, hoarse breath.  A searing heat from Marc's boy cunt radiated through his buried meat.

'Fuck, yeah," Marc gasped.  "Nice fuckin' cock!"  He wasn't trying to stoke Lance's ego; the big, thick man meat felt really good inside him.  And the stud attached to it was hot as fuck, too.   In his rather short life span Marc had taken on dicks bigger, even fatter, than Lance Majors' but very few were the total package.  Maybe Ralph Hilliard, in a rugged sort of way.  Certainly his father.  But this guy, Lance, he topped the list. 

Marc cooed as he felt the man's big set of balls pressing tightly against him and the resting beast throbbing inside.  He knew from past experiences, many of them, that Majors was in awe of whatever-in-hell-it was going on up inside him that turned these men on so.  Marc wasn't exactly sure what special talent he had.  He couldn't fuck himself to find out, after all.  Only thing he could figure is that he was gifted in a way that could turn the straightest of men into insatiable boy fuckers.  One time for any of them was never enough.  Not that he was complaining.  Heck, no!  Marc craved cock up his hole as much as these fuckers delighted in ravaging it. 

Lance was on the move.  Steadily easing his prick out with a masculine moan, pausing when Marc's ass lips chewed on his big dick head and then sliding all the way back in, Lance commenced with a casual tempo.  He craved the awesome sensation as every inch of him pressed into the boy gut-deep before making the long, delightful journey back out.  Marc's scorching pussy wrapped around him like a glove, holding, squeezing and caressing.  His big body, still muscular from his steel-worker days, shivered with delight.  He'd had a lot of pussy in his day, but nothing came close to these incredible sensations.  Buck's teenage son was well worth every dollar he'd paid for the pleasure of fucking him.

As Lance drove into him Marc began pushing his ass back against him, meeting that perfect cock head on.  The sling began to swing with their fuck motions.  Lance knew the boy wanted more; so did he.

"You ready to get really fucked now, boy?" he teased.

"Fuck, yeah!" Marc gushed.  "Make me your boy bitch, Mr. Majors!"

Lance really didn't need permission to take what he needed.  And he wanted this teenager's hole. Wanted it more than any other before.  Just knowing that Marc's father was right upstairs while they were cavorting down in this sex dungeon was more than enough incentive to plunder the kid's ass.  Lance heaved forward; Marc whimpered.  The whole hard cock drilled the cum drenched hole.  Lance's hips moved back and forth as the fat shaft pounded male pussy.  Never one to just lie back and take it, Marc was grinding his ass on Lance's flawless piece.  Lance impaled him again and again, sinking his cock down to the short curlies and smacking his bloated nuts against the boy.  This young pussy felt so fucking good.  Even after all the fucking Marc had already taken tonight it was still incredibly tight and felt like a hot, silken sheath around Lance's bludgeoning member.  Quivering membranes embraced his tool.  There was something just inside his asshole, a bump of some sort, which rode over the top of Lance's working cock and seemed to cause Marc's healthy boy cock to twitch maddeningly.  Previously unfamiliar with taking male ass Lance failed to realize it was the kid's prostate, the most erogenous zone in his pussy.   

Lance plowed the cum greased fuck hole fast and deep with each powerful stroke.  Marc panted, moaned and encouraged him onward.  Majors would make an ideal Daddy, the boy figured.  He had the looks, the body, the cock and the stamina.  Not that he was looking to replace Buck, his real Dad.  But Lance sure would make a fine substitute. 

The sling swung precariously with their wild exertions.  Consumed by sex lust Lance took the apparatus by its supporting chains and heaved it away from him.  As it swung backward Lance's big dick came completely out of Marc's hot hole.  On the return it punched full length back into Marc's hungry ass.  The boy went into a frenzy of gyrations each time the cock crashed through his sphincter and gunned up his hole.  He threw back his head, basking in fuck pleasure.  Lance kept at it for a while, meeting his mark each time.  It was a wild way to fuck!  When Marc least expected it Lance grasped the chains to steady the sling and really balled him, cramming his cock up the teen whore's ass with no restraint.  Lance's hips pumped furiously as he recklessly thrust in and out of that prime pussy.

Marc's entire body wrenched in the sling.  He was lost in a haze of frenzied lust.  His emerald eyes were glazed and the tip of his tongue was working one corner of his panting mouth.  His howls and grunts, moans and groans would have been loud enough to be heard in the bar above if not for the raucous crowd.  Lance was fucking him too good for Marc to hold his load much longer. Squirming on the padding he let out a strangled cry as hot teen spunk spurted like a geyser from his flexing prick.  Ropes of youthful jizz shot out over torso, coating him with rich, creamy boy sauce.  He heaved and bucked, his insides grasping Lance's cock and doing all sort of salacious things to it. 

Lance's masculine body was trembling and his cock was straining in the grasp of Marc's contorting pussy.  The sensations were practically unbearable!  There was a roaring in his head and every muscle on his body had flexed into high definition.  Lance clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth and suddenly looked more like a wild man than a handsome Lothario.  Marc's spasming asshole had driven him to the brink of his endurance.  Lost in rapture he let out a guttural shout as he blasted off in Marc's straining twat.  Heavy loads of thick man cream jetted from his piss hole to splatter the teen's grasping insides.  His legs gone weak from the powerful orgasm, Lance tightly grasped the sling's chains to maintain his balance.  Marc continued squeezing on the spurting cock, working Lance through every beat of his thunderous ejaculation.  Just when he thought he'd been drained Lance pumped Marc with a few more strokes and found himself delivering yet another wave of cum, this one nearly bringing him to his knees.

Lance staggered backward, his long wet cock evacuating Marc's gifted hole.  Steamy hot cum was obscenely oozing from the teen's ravaged pussy.  Marc lay back with a satisfied smile on his cute face, basking in the afterglow of such a fabulous fuck.  Lance almost nervously gathered up his scattered clothes and began dressing.  He was astonished by the force of his release.  All these years fucking all these bitches and it took one teenage jock to give him the best lay of his life.  Fifty, hell.  He'd pay top dollar to fuck that boy again.  And again. 

He wasn't sure exactly what to say.  Besides, Marc looked as though he was lost in a state of rapture.  Damn, he hoped he hadn't fucked the boy silly.  He knew he had one fine cock.  Knew how to use it, too.  In his semi-egotistical mind he wondered if he might have been too much.  After all, he'd never fucked boy pussy before.  He'd figured guys were built to be tough.  Guys who took dick should be able to handle a raunchy man-fuck. 

Marc assuaged his fears by pulling on the chains to elevate his upper body and saying, "That was fuckin' hot, Mr. Majors.  You're an awesome fuck.  Hope we can do this again.  Soon."

Relieved, Lance continued buttoning up his shirt to the mid-way point and smiled crookedly.  "Anytime, young man.  Anytime."

Fuck if Lance Majors wasn't one striking hunk of a man!  As he turned to leave Marc called out, "Hey, if you're not doing anything on Saturday afternoons come over to the park.  We boys get together for a game of b-ball.  A lot of my guys come to watch."

Knowingly winking Lance responded, "I just might do that."  Then he was gone.

Midway up the narrow, shadowed staircase Lance encountered a heavily tattooed, big-gutted biker type on his way down. 

"The pussy boy horny tonight?" the long-bearded cyclist growled.

"Isn't he always?" Lance returned with a grin.

"Sure as fuck hope he's thirsty, too," the biker chuckled as he edged past Lance.  "Got me a belly full of beer saved up for the little pig."

Lance's eyes flared and, for a moment, he considered retracing his steps and observing this perverse action.  Instead, he continued up to the bar, deciding that next time he'd be the one satisfying Mark's thirst.

Between serving customers Buck had observed the entire encounter.  The way Lance threw it to Marc it was little wonder he was a revered cocksman.  Now that outlaw biker was gearing up for a go at the boy.  Buck needed to keep a close eye on this one.  Those bikers were a rough and raunchy crowd.  While he didn't mind Marc being manhandled a bit his son had become a lucrative commodity.  It wouldn't do to have the merchandise compromised.  If things started getting out of hand in the basement there was enough muscle in the bar to remedy the situation. 

The bearded biker had stepped up behind Marc, yanked his head backward and was feeding the boy his cock.  Cripes, even that part of him was tattooed!  Buck's attention was drawn away from the scene by Lance returning to the main floor.  Lance's gaze immediately went to Buck behind the bar.  He had an almost sheepish look on his face.  Buck gave him a reassuring nod.  Lance's handsome face broke with a smile and he shot the other man a victorious "thumbs up." Dickie threw a muscled arm around Lance's shoulder and drew him away into the crowd of men.  Comparing notes, Buck wondered?  He already knew what the verdict would be. 

With a wry grin Buck resumed work, sneaking glances every now and then at the screen of his Android and shaking his head in wonder.  His son, his trade.