— Previously published in Inches magazine - December, 1995 —

— Burglar Gets His Butt Cracked —

He came in the barroom and stood with quiet anonymity near the pay phone. I don't talk to people in bars. It's a bad idea. Get involved in a conversation with a drunk and you've got at least twenty-one years (the minimum age requirement for bar entrance) of twisted confusion, hate, loneliness and fear to deal with. Generally more. He stared at me with too much interest. A tall man, thinning hair, high forehead, thick glasses, eyes slightly crossed. He didn't fit the homosexual aesthetic but he looked like a homosexual to me.

It was nineteen and sixty-four, and most of your gay blades favored mohair and tennis shoes. Not the tall old man at the pay phone, and not myself for that matter. I don't mind admitting I was a James Dean look-alike.

A blind guy sat next to me speaking over-loud to the barman, a scrawny ex-merchant marine with a blond burr. He moved with cool efficiency, washing glasses and responding as little as possible to the odoriferous blind fellow. The tall goniff moved to the stool next to me and sat down. He turned and faced me, putting on the pork pie hat which he had been holding in his hand. "How do?" he said.

"Don't complain much," I responded.

He pulled out a gold money clip. The clasp on the money clip was stretched by of the amount of money it held. "Got a little job of work for you; you want it? I hear you're a reliable B-and-E guy."

I was not rich, flush, covered or solvent.

"Certainly," I said. "I'm one of the best. Never seen the inside of a jail cell."

"Got to have a car."

"I have a car, man," I said.

"Yes, you do," he said. "A 1958 coupe, maroon with a white vinyl top."

"How do you know so much about me? You a cop?"

He opened his thin lips and exposed white perfect teeth.

"Let's step out into the cold, son. A cop. Jesus."

We went outside.

It was both foggy and cold. The thin man pulled down his hat and hunched into his overcoat. He popped a lighter and lit a cig. He offered me one and I took it. We smoked, staring out at the street for a good while. A closed-mouth type, I assumed.

"My name is Rock," he said.

I snorted. He looked like no Rock to me.

"Don't laugh, asshole," he muttered, pulled out a snub nosed five-shot and poked it in my face. "Don't laugh at me. I'm fifty-five years old and I won't stand for any punks laughing at me."

"I laugh when I'm jumpy," I said.

"I do that too." He put the pistol back in the holster. He snickered. "What I want you to do is go to an address, climb up a wall, go into a window, and steal a box in the closet for me. You can take anything you want for yourself but you won't have a good deal of time. There's five hundred bucks in it for you."

"Easy. No alarm upstairs?"

"Nope. Don't even have to break the window. Fella doesn't even have a lock."

"Sounds fat. What's in the box?"

"Some stuff I want. It's in the closet wrapped in brown paper and taped up. You'll find it in the middle drawer of the built-in bureau in the north bedroom closet."

"Okay," I said. "Where is the guy now and what's the address?"

"Thirteen-oh-nine Brookside. He's in the bar up the street so you better get a move on. I'll wait for you here."

"Here" was the Till Two Club, known generally as The Deuce, a neighborhood bar with a sub-clientele of various types of criminals.

"You don't like this guy much, I think."

"I like him fine," the man said. "He's got something I know I want, and when I want something I get it. Look at it this way; I'd rather you got it your way than me getting it my usual way. I'm teaching him a lesson in life."

I didn't care about life lessons, the man or his friend. I just needed some cash. I could easily do the job he wanted. It wasn't up to me to know what was in the box. It was obviously worth more than five hundred dollars to him. I'd stolen merchandise on jobs like this once or twice. It had turned out bad. I couldn't fence the stuff and I developed ill-tempered enemies. Stick with the easy money is my motto.

"How did you pick me?"

"I know a thief when I see one." He pointed to his watch and smiled evilly. "Plus I only work with other queers." The statement gave me a cool feeling in the balls. Gay I am, and I do like the older guys.

I got in my car and drove to the address.

I was up and out of the room in five minutes. The house had steel security doors and bars on the windows downstairs. I found a gold watch (which may or may not have been broken) on a night stand so I took that and the box. I turned off the lights in the living room and walked out into the street.

He was sitting at the bar when I got back to the Deuce. I sat next to him. "Job's finished," I said.

"Easy job, huh? Where's the package?"

"In my trunk."

He reached over and put his claw in my lap and began stroking my dick. I grew instantly hard as he had a good touch.

"Anything to drink?" the barman asked me, oblivious to the man's ministrations beneath the plank.

"Get him a pint of Red Tail," the man said. After he turned, my companion winked at me and said: "Red Tail. That'll be appropriate to you later on." He gave my crank a good hard squeeze.

By the time my drink arrived I had almost creamed my pants and had nearly fallen off the stool. I felt degraded, used, wet and sticky. That's to say I felt pretty good. He watched me drink. I drank the pint down in three gulps. "Where's my money?" I said.

He handed me a cigarette. "Have a smoke and another beer and we'll settle up. You need to get yourself a little more together."

We went to the car and I removed the box from the trunk. He took a wad of money out of his pocket and handed it to me. I put it in my wallet.

"Ain't gonna count it, are you? " he said.

"It's all there," I said.

"You're still young and pretty," he said.

"For now."

"You like it up the ass. You like to cum with a cock up your butt is my take."

"Nope. Only got it in the ass once. Three pumps, a squirt and the guy was on his side, fast asleep. "

"Drive me to my place and I'll fuck you good. Even throw in another hundred so I can call you my whore." He was rubbing my bone again. I didn't like him but my cock seemed to. It was hard as stone.

"Why not drive yourself?"

He shifted the box under his arm. "I don't drive. Let's go. I may be fifty-five but I can fuck all night, and that's what I'm gonna do to you."

"Where did you do time?" I asked.

"Folsom. How about you?"

"I don't get busted."

He snorted disdainfully, pulling me toward the front seat by my hard quivering meat. Not pulling exactly. He was urging me. He pulled out his money clip and snapped off five twenties. "I just bought you. Let's get going."

No question. He was hard as steel and I was soft as butter, except for the dick.

I started the car, and wheeled out onto the town's main drag. He opened his coat and exposed an extremely large slab of meat thrusting up out of his opened pants. "Can you take nine inches without screaming?" he asked.

"No."

"How about twelve inches. You ever take twelve inches? I bet you have."

"I bet I've never seen a twelve-inch dick." I was starting to tremble with lust. I had trouble getting the keys in the ignition.

He opened my pants and my erect cock sprang out. He bent over and licked the dried cum off. "I'm gonna fuck you good. Get your ass way up in the air and pound your hole like a jack-hammer." He opened his mouth wide and pushed his lips down to my pelvic bone. He sucked hard and pulled up all the way to the head and circled the underside with his tongue. He short-pumped his mouth rapidly up and down. He came up for air and grinned at me. He opened my coat and shirt, exposing my chest. He had worked my pants down to my knees. I was pretty much naked.

"I can't drive like this. I don't know if I can handle your cock, either."

He leaned over and sucked me until I was helpless. He raised his head. "When I'm through getting you ready you'll be plenty open. You'll be begging for my big dick."

"Okay," I said. "Shut up so I can drive. I'm hot as hell. I don't think I can drive, I've got to calm down here."

He put his hand on my neck. "Breathe a little, kid. You look like you're going to faint."

I was near fainting. When I calmed enough I asked him where he lived.

"Thirteen-oh-nine Brookside."

"What? I just got through burglarizing you?"

"That's right."

"I don't believe this. What kind of trip are you on?"

"A power trip. I like to make people do things. I've got the money and it helps me in my work."

"What work?"

"I'm a psychologist."

He bent over and stuffed my iron rod up his throat. He banged his mouth furiously on my pelvis. I could feel my balls tightening, pre-cum flowing up.

"I'm gonna shoot," I said.

He pulled his face off my whang and wanked me like he was milking a cow. I could see my prostate in my mind, glowing like radium. Then it felt like electric wires were being pulled from my eggs. The first spurt hit me square in the forehead. I must have had five more. It was all I could do to keep on the road.

"You like that, huh, baby? Wait'll we get to my apartment. I'll screw the jizz out of you." He rubbed the jism all over my chest, my nipples.

"You're gonna suck on this and then I'm gonna nail you 'til you shriek like a chick. When I'm through with you, you'll be shaving your legs and wearing hose and heels."

I didn't wreck the car; there wasn't much traffic.

"I don't know if I can accommodate a prick as big as yours."

He grabbed my hard-on and started stroking it. He had incredible hands and a preternatural ability to tell when I was about to blow off. I was at the peak of ecstasy when I pulled into his drive.

He buttoned his pants and jumped out of the car. He hurried up the steps and unlocked his door. He came back and lifted me wholesale out of the seat and threw me over his shoulder, my pants fell down to my ankles, my ass and back exposed to all who cared to look. He had left his hat in the car exposing his bald pate. He kicked the door shut and carried me like a sack of flour into the house and up the flight of stairs, and threw me on his bed.

I'm not a small guy, I stand five-eleven and weigh a hundred and eighty, all toned, solid muscle. I take care of myself. I'm not used to being thrown about like that. Particularly by a man closer to sixty than fifty.

He turned on the ceiling lamp and stood above me. He had me stripped in a trice. I lay on the bed and he slowly took off his clothes. He had wide shoulders, a small waist and was covered with long lean muscle. A great fan of gray hair came up from his belly, terminating at each nipple.

His huge rocket bobbed its head at me. As I said earlier, he was bald and his face was lined, and he had fine wrinkles covering his neck and more wrinkles under his biceps, but he was a piece of work. He kneeled in front of me and took one of my nuts in his mouth. I lay there on a cloud of fear and pleasure as he rolled my egg around his tongue, his teeth gently pressing into my sack. I lay back and spread my arms across the bed, eyes closed, and gave myself to the moment.

Soon he had both of my eggs in his mouth. He sucked and licked my jewels while my groin and hips glowed with heat. I pulled my knees up to give him more access, my cock bloated and swollen. He pushed me back and circled my thighs with his hard arms, reached up and pinched both of my titties hard. I lifted my legs up high and rested my ankles on the back of his neck. I whimpered and mewled. He began to growl, vibrating my balls. My iron-hard love-rod dripped copious amounts of pre-cum on my belly. I squirmed and shimmied under his ministrations.

Still twirling my tits he let my balls fall out of his mouth, rose and began to lick my curved seven-inch shaft.

He licked the underside of my foreskin, let go of my left tit and inserted his long middle finger up my asshole. My anus quivered and my prostate throbbed as he goosed me vigorously.

He rotated his head in a circular motion, rolling my cock at an extreme angle. I felt my pump being primed and moaned loudly. He pulled off, leaving my cock yearning in anguish for his mouth.

He rose above me, continuing to finger-fuck my ass. "Pretty tight there, baby," he said.

"I've only been fucked once, and that was awhile back. A year at least."

"You're a nice-looking fella. Got a sweet little ass. Why hasn't anyone reamed you?"

I arched my back and closed my eyes. I wanted that big swollen cock up my ass. He pulled his finger out and slapped me on the side of the butt. "What? Aren't you gonna fuck me?" I whined.

"I asked you why no one's done it before."

"Someone did once. A drunk black guy. He stuck it in, it hurt, he pumped me three times and shot. Then he rolled over and went to sleep. I told you that earlier. Don't you listen? Anyway, I've always been with guys that sixty-nine or guys that want me to fuck them. I know how to fuck. It seems like the guys I fuck have a better time, I must admit."