The BJ Boy

Andy was strapped for cash so badly that he couldn’t even get his head around what the hell he was supposed to do to get some. He kicked a pebble with his foot, making it roll down the pavement. Being poor sucked big time. It didn’t help that all he knew was to wash dishes and take out the garbage.

Man, how he envied those dudes in designer suits, and sunglasses watching the door to that club, he thought, as he looked up. Their boss must pay them royally just to guard the door.

Andy was a man of action. Well, he liked to think he was a man, although he had barely turned eighteen. Whatever, he had to qualify for some errand boy position if there was some opening at that club. He stole a quick look into a store window. He wore skinny jeans hanging low on his hips, Converse shoes, and a wife beater, showing off the slight definition of his biceps.

It wasn’t like he was strong as those guys in front, but he could hold his ground, he thought. The big boss at that nightclub might just have some work for him. He stopped in front of the window, grimacing and trying to make himself look tough. Why the hell did he had to have full lips like a girl’s? Most probably it made some people eager to sucker-punch him. That might explain why he got into so many fights.

He didn’t have too many trophy scars to prove that. He was way too good at dodging and running. His mom liked his face. She often told him he was handsome. But he hated his blue eyes, and blond hair, and big fucking fat lips. He wanted to look tough, like a man and all that. Instead, he looked like someone asking for a beating.

With a shrug, he pushed the golden necklace inside his wife beater. It was fake, anyway. But it was the only thing he had from his dad and he didn’t want anyone to think they could snatch it from him.

Hands in his pockets, trying to look loose and without a care in the world, he walked over to one of the men in front. “Hey, is the boss in or something?”

The bouncer didn’t even spare him a look. Andy wasn’t going to let that bother him. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

“Kid, scram.”

The man didn’t move, but his voice was threatening enough. Andy could feel his anger coming up. “I’m no kid. I’m looking for work.”

“Look somewhere else. There’s no room for scrawny punks like you around here.”

“I can fight.” Andy put his fists up, for demonstration.

The bouncer took one step toward him, but Andy stood his ground. Who the hell that guy thought he was to call him a kid?

It was enough for the bouncer to put one heavy hand against his chest and push him that he landed on his ass. “Screw you.” He shot up to his feet and lunged at the man.

He would get a beating now. That was sure. The bouncer smiled, as if he could barely wait to mess him up. He caught Andy’s fist with one hand, gripping it tightly. Andy cried out in pain, and his knees began giving in.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

The bouncer dropped him to the ground like he was burned. Andy rolled on the sidewalk, catching his bruised hand with the other.

“Just a punk messing around,” the bouncer replied to whoever was asking.

Andy saw perfectly polished shoes stopping right in front of him. He didn’t look up. Maybe this guy would kick him, too. “Stand up, boy,” the stranger ordered.

“Want me to keep him so you can punch him, boss?” the bouncer asked.

Andy dared to look up. A man was looking down on him. He looked like a celebrity or something. He had dark hair, shiny with hair gel, and he was handsome in a rough way. That guy looked like a man. Maybe he was just a scrawny punk, after all, Andy thought.

With some difficulty, he stood up. If he was going to take a punch, he was going to take it standing. Without hesitation, he stared the stranger into his dark eyes that were looking at him with interest. From up close, the guy looked even more like he just got off some shiny cover of a magazine.

The bouncer hurried to pin Andy’s arms behind his back. Andy stared with defiance at the stranger.

“Let him,” the man ordered shortly. “Come with me,” he then told Andy.

Andy smiled. Damn, he would now get a frigging job. The man must have seen he was not afraid. He could use him for something. He stuck his tongue at the two bouncers as he followed the handsome guy.

“Mr. Torelli,” the other bouncer said and bowed.

So that was the guy’s name, Andy registered right away. That was good to know. He sauntered after Mr. Torelli, into the darkness of the club.

He followed him into what looked like an office with plush chairs and heavy furniture. Andy could swear he could sleep on the carpet and it would still be better than his bed at home.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Torelli asked once they were alone. He was leaning against a desk, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Andy … Andrew Stamwell, sir,” he replied quickly.

Mr. Torelli threw him a weird once-over. Andy felt his skin prickling under that man’s gaze and like the temperature in the room was getting higher. It was like the guy wanted to stare at him through his clothes or something. Mr. Torelli moved slowly and lit himself a cigar, making the smoke dance toward the ceiling. Man, even that smelled rich.

“I’m looking for a job,” Andy added. “Anything would do, really. I can run errands, and I know I don’t look that strong, but I can beat up people and --”

“Have you ever sucked a guy’s cock?”

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. That couldn’t be real. It was all because of his stupid face and stupid lips, right? Mr. Torelli thought he was a cocksucker.

“No, sir,” he said and puffed his chest out. “I only screw girls.”

Mr. Torelli chuckled. Andy threw the guy a nervous look. The guy seemed to be in his late 30s, and he was good looking, and all. Why the hell was he asking him those fag questions?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“About the job, sir --” Andy started again.

“There’s something. Actually, the only thing if you’re looking for a quick buck,” Mr. Torelli said.

“Anything, sir,” Andy replied quickly.

“So eager.” The man chuckled again, making Andy feel goose bumps everywhere. “The only opening I have right now is for a cocksucker.”

Andy ground his teeth hard. This guy was taking him for a fool. “I’m no cocksucker.”

Whatever, he would look for work somewhere else. He turned on his heels.

“Two hundred. For a mouthful,” Mr. Torelli threw at his retreating back.

Two hundred? For that kind of thing? Andy stopped dead in his tracks. But he was no cocksucker.

“I’ll double it, for you. You have no experience so it will be my pleasure to train your mouth.”

He wasn’t considering it now, was he? Andy shook his head. But four hundred bucks? Now that solved the problem with the rent for him and his mom. It was only a blowjob, right? No, he shook his head again. What the fuck was he thinking? He wasn’t going to put his mouth on some dude’s cock. That would make him a fag. Right?

He raised his eyes and looked at Mr. Torelli. The man had a secretive smile dancing on his lips like he knew something Andy didn’t, although he should’ve. Maybe Mr. Torelli, being rich and all, wanted to laugh at him. That had to be it.

“You’re pranking me, right?” Andy asked, cocking his head to one side. “What need do you have for a cocksucker?”

“Any man needs a cocksucker,” was the immediate reply.

“Well, you surely have plenty of women to do that for you,” Andy said.

“I happen not to like women. Or their cocksucking techniques,” Mr. Torelli said with a thin smile.

“Then there are surely many fags who want to suck your dick,” Andy replied, again.

Mr. Torelli’s smile widened. “Are you calling me a fag, too, Andy?”

Andy ignored how the man didn’t call him Andrew, as he had introduced himself. “No, sir,” he said and gulped nervously. “Only the guys who suck dick are fags.”

“And those who have their dicks sucked aren’t?” Mr. Torelli was laughing now.

Andy could feel sweat pouring down his back. One wrong move and this guy could make things seriously bad for him. “No, sir,” he replied, but his voice was low and quiet now.

“So you don’t want the money?” Mr. Torelli asked again.

“You’re just pulling my leg,” Andy tried to laugh it off.

Mr. Torelli continued to smile as he pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. Andy’s eyes grew wide. Mr. Torelli took four bills out of the wad and placed them on the desk next to him. “The money’s here. Just waiting for you to come over here and suck my cock.”

Andy swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Was Mr. Torelli still pulling his leg? A man like that couldn’t be a fag, right? By Andy’s definition, he couldn’t be since he wasn’t the one sucking some other dude’s cock.

“I’m not a fag,” he said softly, but took one step forward.

Mr. Torelli smiled with superiority. The one day stubble on the man’s cheek looked as rough as him. “You’ll be what I want you to be, Andy.”

Andy just nodded, without even knowing what he was agreeing to. A couple more steps and he was standing right in front of Mr. Torelli.

“What are you waiting for? On your knees, boy,” Mr. Torelli ordered.

Andy kneeled slowly, his eyes never leaving Mr. Torelli’s. Was this really happening? Minutes ago, he was a straight boy looking for work. Now he was getting on his knees for a dude.

But four hundred bucks were four hundred bucks. In the off-chance that Mr. Torelli wasn’t looking to fuck him over, the money was his. All he needed was to close his eyes, put the man’s cock between his lips and do that thing.

He shuddered just thinking of it. He had his eyes closed tightly, and he was trying to fight the instinct telling him to jump to his feet and run without looking back. The sound of rustling clothes made him want to sneak a peek.

He noted Mr. Torelli’s expensive watch as the guy’s hands moved in front of him. Mr. Torelli was wasting no time, and he was now pulling out the biggest cock Andy had ever seen in his life. Was he going to suck that thing? Gross.

Yet, it wasn’t disgust what he felt. The musky smell of Mr. Torelli’s groin was making him feel funny. It wasn’t like the guy smelled of piss or sweat or something like that. There was still the smell of expensive soap wafting from his groin to Andy’s nose, but his male scent was present, too.

Andy leaned forward, inhaling. This wasn’t disgusting him as he thought it would.

“Do you like to smell me?”

Andy caught himself in time, and moved his head to one side, feeling guilty.

“Come on,” Mr. Torelli said while grabbing his cock and pushing it into Andy’s cheek.

Andy could feel a trail of something wet and sticky on his skin. He turned his head enough so that he could face the one-eyed monster. And what a monster it was, that thing! The head was dark red and looked even bigger from up close. Andy moved one hand to feel the rest of it. It was like solid steel under his fingers. That cock had seen action in its life. It wasn’t only rock hard, it was crossed by thick veins, too.

Without overthinking things, Andy began moving his hand, making the skin go over the glans, and causing more clear fluid to pour from it.

“Lick it,” Mr. Torelli ordered.

Andy put his tongue out. He didn’t really want to do this, but he needed to. If he wasn’t enjoying it, he couldn’t be some fag. He licked and felt a salty taste on his tongue. That wasn’t so bad. And it was like his, only heavier, and more.

He half-closed his eyes as he continued to lick. For some weird reason, he wanted to feel that taste more. It was making him curious or something. A firm hand grabbed his hair at the back of his head, and the head he was tasting pushed, without warning, through his lips.

Andy tried to move back, but the hand was holding him, pushing him forward.

“Open your mouth wide. If I feel your teeth, I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Mr. Torelly commanded firmly.

The dude was insane. Andy forced his mouth open, but the head of that monster thing hit the back of his throat fast, making him gag. He pressed his hands against Mr. Torelli’s strong thighs, and pulled his head free, coughing, and trying hard not to puke.

“I had to check if you weren’t lying,” Mr. Torelli said, but he didn’t sound like he wanted to apologize for that.

“Lying about what?” Andy asked, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“About sucking cock. I’m glad to see you didn’t lie. Now get back to work.”

Andy mumbled something, not daring to really say something against the man.

“What? Did you think making this kind of cash was easy? There’s a reason why it’s called a blowjob. It’s a pretty hard job.” Mr. Torelli laughed at his own choice of words.

Andy placed himself back on his knees, but now he was wary of Mr. Torelli trying to choke him with his cock. He placed both his hands on the man’s dick and took only what he could into his mouth. Thankfully, the guy didn’t force him this time.

He was getting into a rhythm. It was like a hand job, only that he was also using his mouth. It wasn’t that bad. If he wasn’t thinking he was basically doing a thing only fags did, he could do it.

Only that it was hard to ignore the hard thing in his mouth. It was a bit overwhelming, and the to and fro movement was making Andy think of something, something he could not put his finger on, but was making his breathing become deeper while his skin was like caught on fire.

“Go more now, go more,” Mr. Torelli said to him, and the man’s voice seemed urgent.

Andy tried. But the soonest he felt the enormous head touching him too deep, he withdrew.

“Breathe through your nose. Like this,” Mr. Torelli ordered again, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back a little.

When the man drove back into his mouth, making him gag again, Andy squirmed. The thing was in his throat now, pushing past his gag reflex, and his entire body was revolting. He could do nothing about it, only panic.

“Breathe,” Mr. Torelli barked at him.

Andy grabbed that order like a straw thrown to a drowning man. He started to breathe through his nose, his eyes filled with tears. He opened them to look up at Mr. Torelli. The man had a strange smile that made him squirm some more.

To steady his position, Andy placed one hand in front, between his legs, brushing over his groin. What the hell? He was … hard?

He pulled away his hand and placed it on Mr. Torelli’s thigh, again.

“I’m going to fuck your throat now, Andy, okay? Don’t try to run away. Don’t close your mouth. I’ll fuck your mouth so good.”

Andy just nodded. Mr. Torelli was hard as a rock, lodged inside his throat now, but maybe he was close. He focused on his breathing, trying to ignore what he now knew was his own cock struggling and rubbing against the zipper of his jeans. Of all days, he had chosen that one to go commando. His cock was going to suffer some serious bruising.

“Yes, Andy, you’re doing good, boy,” Mr. Torelli began talking. “You look like you were born for this, to have a mouth full of cock. Damn, you look fine. Just take it, fuck, take it. I’m going to shoot a load straight into your stomach.”

Andy could swear he was insane to feel his cock twitch and jerk at those fucking dirty words. But that was the only thing happening to him and he could not think of anything else. Mr. Torelli grabbed the back of his head and pushed his cock so hard into Andy’s throat that his balls smashed against Andy’s chin.

Andy was filling his nostrils with the smell of Mr. Torelli’s groin. Probably his eyes were rolling in his head now, from lack of air, or from something else. The guy’s cock was jerking inside his throat, and his load, as he said it earlier, was shot straight into Andy’s stomach.

Mr. Torelli was cursing loudly now, groaning and moaning, making Andy’s hair stand on air from fear mixed with excitement. If he died by being choked with a cock, he was a stupid sucker.

Just as brutally, Mr. Torelli pulled back, finally letting Andy breathe. Andy did exactly that, heaving, trying to get as much air inside as possible.

“Not done,” Mr. Torelli said.

Andy stared at him without believing his eyes. Mr. Torelli was rubbing his cock fast.

“What?” he mumbled.

“I never shoot a single load.”

Andy opened his mouth to ask how the fuck that was possible, but he was grabbed by the hair again. This time, Mr. Torelli didn’t drive all his cock inside; instead, he began using Andy’s lips like a fleshlight, moving fast between them.

“Suck. Don’t sit there like that,” Mr. Torelli ordered again.

Andy tried. He really tried.

“Open your mouth and wait for my load,” Mr. Torelli said.

This one, at least, was easy. Andy moved his head like he had seen girls do it in pornos, and waited with his mouth open wide.

“Yes, fuck, take this, you fucking pretty cocksucker,” Mr. Torelly shouted, and began filling his mouth with jizz.

Now that had to be gross. Andy felt his tongue coated with cum, and his mouth filling up quickly. But instead of disgust, his cock was still twitching in his jeans like a complete moron.

“Yes, show me,” Mr. Torelli said, this time, finally finished, by the looks of things.

Andy stood there.

“Yes, nice.” Mr. Torelli smiled and played with one finger inside Andy’s mouth, coating the inside of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth with jizz. “Swallow that. No, wait,” he ordered.

Andy first closed, then opened his mouth wider. If he did everything the guy said, the money was his right. But some of the sperm in his mouth now flew down his chin. It was only a little, right?

Mr. Torelli towered over him and was boring his eyes into Andy’s. Then he did something that took Andy completely by surprise. He steadied Andy’s jaw with one hand and then he spat into his mouth.

Andy recoiled a little. It wasn’t like spit was worse than cum, but somehow that felt nasty.

“Now swallow,” Mr. Torelli said with satisfaction, closing Andy’s jaw.

He did, but he could feel his stomach revolting a little. Maybe he was getting a bit green in the face now because Mr. Torelli was laughing.

“Ah, damn, you spilled a little,” Mr. Torelli pointed at his shoes, on which a few drops of cum had fallen. “Lick it, or it won’t be a job well done.”

“Are you serious?” Andy murmured.

“Dead serious. Get to work,” Mr. Torelli ordered.

Andy wanted to crawl out of his skin at this point. But, instead of telling the guy in his face that was enough, he bent over the guy’s shoes and licked the drops of jizz. If his damned cock could just stop twitching already.

“Good. Now let me see you,” Mr. Torelli said.

A bit shaky, Andy stood up. Mr. Torelli had a smug smile on his face. He didn’t flinch when Mr. Torelli grabbed whatever remained of his jizz on Andy’s cheek and chin and pushed it all into his mouth.

“Good job, boy,” Mr. Torelli said. “Now, thank me for taking my cum and spit.”

Andy’s eyes grew wide. “Give me the money,” he said and opened his hand.

Mr. Torelli laughed. “I was wondering where your limit was. If you had said ‘yes’ to this, too, I would have taken you and put you under lock and key right now. Here’s the money, kid. You earned it.”

Andy grabbed the money and looked down. Now he needed to scram and fast, before Mr. Torelli changed his mind about putting him away or about the money.

“Hey, Andy,” Mr. Torelli called at him from behind. “If you ever need easy money, just come by. Tell the men in front you’re my BJ boy.”

“BJ?” Andy half turned.

“Yeah. You’re my blowjob boy now.”

Andy didn’t know how fast to get out of the room. He didn’t even count the money. He just stashed them into his pocket and ran through the front door, without a look back.

***

He put the money on the table and hurried to the bathroom. There were furious tears in his eyes as he pulled his cock free and began jerking it off in front of the sink.

Andy looked at his own image in the mirror. He opened his mouth, trying to image how he must have looked while Mr. Torelli had asked him to sit there, with his mouth open and full of jizz.

“BJ boy,” he told himself in the mirror as he shot a fountain.

That was the worst fap of his life. He had been used, humiliated, jizzed in his stomach and his mouth, and he had the boner of his life.

He wasn’t going to do it again. That was a one-time thing.

“Andy, what’s with the money on the table?” his mother asked him through the door, making him jump.

“I helped George repair something,” Andy shouted. “You can use it for rent and stuff.”

“Okay,” his mother said. “You’re not doing anything illegal, Andy, are you?”

Andy had no idea if being a BJ boy for Mr. Torelli counted as something illegal. But he wasn’t going to go back there again, so it didn’t matter. Was he?

---

AN: Thanks for reading this piece of mine. I'm writing a lot of stories with this sort of high heat. You can check out my latest, Wrong Hole, on Smashwords.