Bowser

Bowser sat outside of the ramshackle house on top of the steep hill for almost three days now. He had seen some of everybody going in and out in that time. From the most respected of businessmen and councilmen to some of the shadiest of characters there are. On a couple of occasions, Bowser almost blew his cover because some of the scum crawling out had some high bounties on their head. But it was the man that lived inside the house that Bowser wanted first.

“Terrence Dubois,” the fifty-six-year-old Bowser groaned, stretching his long legs in classic oversized Cadillac.

Dubois had a bounty on his head. He was also the most accessible out of the bunch until Bowser got his hands on the big boy of the West Coast: Samuel “Preacher” Johnson.

Dubois wasn’t a bad start. His bounty was $50k. Dubois had made a long career out of eluding the police. He started out as a small-town drug dealer in Stockton before raising the stakes with his four-man cartel in the suburbs of Oakland. Oakland was in the middle of a turf war, and Dubois loss three of his men there. With his tail tucked between his legs, Dubois relocated to San Diego where he built another empire from scratch. And when Five-O got a whiff of his funky scent, Dubois fled to Mexico where he learned he couldn’t cut the mustard. He chose to crawl back and lay low back here in the States, in the Midwest trying to go straight. That was short-lived, too. So he made a triumphant returned within the last several months, running a house of ill-repute in the crime-infested neighborhood near Elysian Park.

Bowser emerged from the Cadillac looking like an old-school player shortly after midnight, scratching idly at his lean belly and took one last puff of his cigarette. Before taking the assignment, the skinny fifty-six-year-old could proudly boast he hadn’t touched a cancer stick in well over three years. But this was the only thing he could do to take the edge off right now other than whacking off right there in the middle of the street.

“I guess this motherfucker is going to make me come in and get him,” Bowser complained, looking up at the exceedingly long staircase.

He meticulously gauged the flow of traffic over the past three days around the tumbledown, learning that around midnight was the slowest. In a neighborhood that remained mildly teeming with drug dealers and other kinds of street vendors roaming about.

Before Bowser could put his fist to the door, one of the pallid boys working at the house answered the door. He looked legal, Dubois gauged. He was a little on the scrawny side as if sexing for pay wasn’t his only pastime. The boy stuck his tongue in his rosy cheek and said, “Dicks gets discounts” referring to cops.

“I’m not a dick.” Bowser clarified, playing with his soft bulge.

“Suit yourself, mister.” Rosy-Cheek Boy walked off as if he wanted Bowser to pursue him.

Bowser obliged as he followed him through the house and into a bedroom where his grand prizes sat up in a bed surrounded by piles of money in his boxers.

Going by the file Bowser had on Dubois, he was twenty-two and five-nine.

“Hey, Terrence, I brought my customer back.”

“I’m not your customer, kid.” Bowser corrected him.

Dubois fanned the rosy-cheeked boy away.

“I have more of a stable downstairs if you don’t want that fucking nancy. Pick one out and bring him back up here to pay on your way out.”

“I’m not here to take a swim in your supply.”

“How can I help you then?”

“I hear you’re doing some good business, man. I want in.”

Dubois gazed at Bowser. He thought Bowser was either a cop or some crazy motherfucker that kept his ear to the street.

“Sorry, old man. I don’t divvy up my bread with no man.” Dubois smirked.

Bowser reached for his back waist and pulled out his handcuffs. “Well, I guess I have to go back to my old job of bounty hunting then.”

Dubois glanced over at the burglar bars on his window and reached for the gun behind his pillow.

“You moved it, remember?” Bowser noted.

Bowser walked backwards towards the dresser and pulled out a revolver from one of the drawers. Though the house sat atop a hill, the window had no curtains and Bowser had some sharp eyes so he could see some of what was going on inside.

Dubois slowly got up from the bed, putting his hands in the air as if he was about to surrender. Bowser thought better that he was going to give up so easily, and sure enough the bastard dashed for the door. Dubois in his haste slipped face first onto the hardwood floor. Bowser got on top of him and cuffed him, wiping out the paperwork for his re-arrest tossing in on the floor.

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Too late,” Bowser growled, picking the man up with one hand and tossing him on the pile of money on the bed. “I don’t divvy up my bread either.”

Bowser glanced over at the bed where Dubois was laid out. He could clearly see that his dick was trying to burst through the slit of his boxers.

“Well, there is a way we can work things out.” Bowser said walking over to Dubois.

“What are you doing man?” Dubois fought to get upright before falling back into the bed.

Bowser answered by reaching into the slit of Dubois’ boxers and grabbing hold of his hardened dick.

“This great big dick of mine is right for poking, man.” Dubois sold himself. “I can wear that sweet mouth or that sweet ass. I bet back in your heyday you had a good bit of both.”

Dubois chuckled. Bowser stroked the piece of manhood in his hand, grinning back.

Bowser cooed. “Great mind things alike. I was thinking the same thing. You have some sexy-ass lips and a nice fat juicy booty. When was the last time you had that junk of yours crammed by an overstuffed dick?”

“Hey, man, what do you mean by that?” Dubois got nervous.

“You’re a smart cookie, Terrance. You can figure it out.” Bowser closed the door and locked it, unzipping his pants with one hand and letting them drop to his ankles to reveal his magnum as he often ventured the world commando style. “Better yet, ask which one of us isn’t in handcuffs?”

With the revolver still in his hand, Bowser removed his pants from his ankles and his shirt and jacket from his sinewy body.

“Hey, man,” Dubois grinned. “I can take care of that personally, no problem. But you got to promise to free me afterwards.”

“And what’s in it for me?” Bowser inquired.

“Eight stacks, which is everything on the bed–everything I got in the house right now.” Dubois proposed.

Bowser nodded, placing the revolver on the windowsill and tossing Dubois on the bed. “Don’t try anything stupid. If you do, I will fuck you up.”

Completely nude, Bowser turned Dubois around and climbed on top of him feeding him his dick. Bowser was delighted with Dubois. He felt wonderful, Bowser thought, positioning himself to hump his face.

The way Dubois was able to handle him down to the hilt like that the boy was no amateur. Dubois probably built his empire giving blowjobs rather than slinging dope or pimping, which he boasted his reputation on.

“Damn! Your mouth feels like some fresh wet cunt.” Bowser barked to Dubois in disgust.

After a decent ten minutes of fucking his face, Bowser pulled out and wielded his load over the handsome young face.

“Four thousand,” Dubois negotiated, spitting the cum that landed on his face.

“Here comes the full eight then.” Bowser said flipping Dubois onto his stomach.

Bowser pulled Dubois’ boxers off his ass and began to massage the mounds trying to stuff his meaty fingers in his mouth.

“Don’t warm me up. There are some condoms and lube in the top dresser drawers.”

Bowser offered nothing. He walked over to the dresser, put on a lubed condom and slathered on some more lube.

“Not bad for an old man.” Bower said catching the twenty-two-year-old boy looking back at him.

Bowser wetted his lips and slowly walked over to Dubois climbing on top of him, rubbing the sheathed tip against his puckered hole.

“Shit!” Dubois cried as Bowser prodded him with half his portly length.

“Big boys don’t cry, do they?” Bowser teased and then grunted as he pushed hard until bush and balls were crushed deep into Dubois’ crack.

His hole was tight, but Bowser soon worked it into a welcoming gap that gave up its walls. That didn’t stop Dubois from pretending to protest, lifting his ass and pushing it back against him cursing up a storm against the squeaky bed.

Young stuff, Bowser thought. Can take dick for days!

Bowser fucked him long and strong, listening to Dubois give him as his bony thighs slapped the bubbly ass. Bowser didn’t concern himself if Dubois came or not as he shot his load and filled the tip of the condom. Bowser collapsed on top of him, pulling out as his dick softened in his ass.

When Bowser was finished, he politely covered Dubois ass with his boxers as he got dressed. Afterwards, he counted all the money and found out that it was a little more than Dubois let on.

“You lied.” Bowser informed him, standing Dubois up, tossing every dollar bill he could find into a pillowcase and leading him out of the room.

“What I lie about?”

“You were two stacks short of a pipedream.”

Dubois pleaded with Bowser all the way out the house, telling the world that he was being taken advantage of by this old man.

When Bowser got Dubois in the back of his Cadillac and got into the driver’s seat, Bowser reached back, squeezing the hardened nub that still existed between Dubois’ legs, and said, “Get comfortable, old boy, we got a long ride ahead of us!”