Kenny

“Most of the guys carry a knife now,” Kenny said suddenly. “I don’t. Maybe I should start. One I know has a gun.” He shook his head. “Stupid.”
He stopped again suddenly and faced me. “Why am I telling you these things?” he said again earnestly. His brown eyes searched my face.
“Maybe you think I’m a good listener,” I answered evasively.
“Hmmmm!” was his only rejoinder, and we continued walking.
“Have you never tried a girl?” I enquired.
He nodded. “Oh yes. I had a girlfriend for a short while, back home. But after sex with her a couple of times I realised I wasn’t enjoying it that much. It didn’t feel right, somehow.” He fell silent and his face took on an introspective look. “I suppose I’d got so used to the feel of a man, the feel of a cock, that a girl did nothing for me.”

Another pause, and then he said thoughtfully with a flash of quite adult reasoning, “I suppose you could say my father made me gay.”
Silently, I agreed with him. In one way I thought of his father with disgust and revulsion because of the abuse to his own son, but in another way, as I glanced down at his young face and trim body, I was glad Kenny had turned out the way he had.
He didn’t ask where we were going, and after about fifteen minutes we arrived at my place. I drew the key from my pocket and opened the front door, gesturing for him to go inside.
“Is this your place?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded and looked round. “Nice. Where do we go now?”
I pointed to one door. “You,” I told him, “go in there. I,--” I pointed to another door, “go in there. I’ll see you in a while.”
Kenny looked at me in puzzlement, and then hesitantly opened the door I had shown him.
“Wow! A shower!” He turned and looked at me. “Do you know how long it is since I had a shower?”
“A while, I imagine,” I said dryly. “Help yourself. I’ll see you when you’re finished.”
Even as I spoke Kenny was throwing his jacket on the floor, pulling the T-shirt over his head and unzipping his jeans.
“Oh, boy!” he exclaimed. “I am going to enjoy this!”

I shut the door and left him to it. I went to the living room and surveyed it. Sitting on the sofa I poured a small drink and sipped it as I thought. I really liked Kenny. I found him very easy to be with. There was something appealing about him and he was certainly sexually desirable. He was handsome, and no doubt given different circumstances, would have been a favourite with the girls. As it was, he could have a good life ahead of him. If he survived that long. If he didn’t get beaten to death first. And if he stayed off the drugs. And the booze. And if he could get himself out of the life he was presently in. I looked around the room. There were lots of things that would fetch money if they were nicked and sold on. TV, video, movie camera in one of the drawers, a little jewellery which was good quality gold and which I never wore. Yes, if Kenny had a mind to lift something from me, he could make quite a bit of money out of my stuff if he knew where to take it – and I presumed he did. His friends would have told him that.
I could hear the shower running. I imagined his body, completely undressed, smooth, young and his cock growing hard as I touched it. My cock stirred at the thought. Yes, I wanted Kenny very much, there was no doubt about that.
I let my thoughts ramble through my brain and then made a decision. While Kenny was enjoying himself in the shower, I made certain preparations and did certain things. Then I returned to the sofa and I was still sitting there when I heard the bathroom door open. Kenny came out, wearing just his underwear. I stared at him.

His body was trim, a little on the thin side perhaps, but if he wasn’t eating that well it wasn’t surprising, but the start of what would become some serious muscles were evident. His chest was devoid of hair, and his stomach was flat and I guessed, hard. The key dangled on its cord round his neck. The only thing that marred the perfection of his lithe young body were the two red weals on his ribs.
He was wearing an old fashioned pair of trunks, with an open fly, the pre-cursor to the modern boxer short. They were originally white, but the front was covered with stains, some obviously cum and the others probably piss. He had evidently been wearing them for quite a long time and the sight of them made me feel incredibly horny. As he moved towards me I caught tantalising glimpses of his cock through the open fly. Not enough to see it clearly, by any means, but enough to make me want to hold it, feel it and enjoy it.
“That was terrific!” Kenny said, his eyes shining. “I left the bathtowel on the rail.”
I nodded. “Okay. Feel better, do you?”
“Tons!” he agreed.
I nodded towards those wonderful pants he was wearing. “Not very fashionable,” I remarked.

Kenny looked down and his face clouded over. “Oh! Sorry. The few clean clothes I have are in the locker, so I had to put them on again. Fashionable? No, but very easy to get my cock out when necessary.” He studied them dispassionately. “Perhaps it’s about time I threw them out. But then I won’t have any to wear at all.” He raised his head and grinned at me. “That’ll make it even easier,” he added. He suddenly pulled them down and stepped out of them, revealing himself to me with a smile.
His cock was gorgeous. There was no other word to describe it. It was quite long, and fairly thick, and I knew that when it was hard it would be something he could be immensely proud of. He was uncut, and the hair at its base and around it was dark and appeared to be remarkably soft, presumably because of his young age. He had a thin line of hair growing up from his cock to just below his navel. Kenny moved towards me until he was standing right in front of me.
“Do you like what you paid for?” he asked softly. His glance dropped to my crotch, where my cock was already beginning to become hard itself.
“I see that you do,” Kenny murmured and leant forward to reach for my crotch. I grabbed his wrist and gently pushed his arm away.
“No,” I said.
He looked at me with a puzzled frown on his smooth, handsome features.
“No?” he repeated. “Then what….?”
“Sit down,” I told him. “Wait, put your pants back on first.”
Kenny obeyed, casting puzzled glances at me as he did so.

If he knew what an effort it had cost me to push him away and not reach for that wonderful cock of his, he would have been very surprised. He sat down at the other end of the sofa.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “You’ve bought me a meal, brought me to your home, let me have a super hot shower, and yet you don’t want me to touch you.” He waved an arm. “I don’t get it, Mister. Mister,” he repeated with a slight shake of his head. “Please, won’t you tell me your name?” This last request was uttered in a soft, pleading voice. “Mister makes you sound like an ordinary trick, and you aren’t that. Please tell me your name.”
I stared at him while I tried to work out how to say what I wanted to tell him.
“Kenny,” I began, ignoring his request, “I like you very much. There’s something about you that I find very, very attractive. Yes, I want you to touch me, very much, but not just yet. I bought you the meal and brought you here because I think, I feel, that you are not like other rent boys. Not that I’ve ever met one,” I added quickly, “but we all have our accepted models of hookers and rent boys, and you just don’t fit into the pattern. I like you very much, I think you’re very handsome, almost beautiful in a way, because you’re still young, and I find you very desirable. But I have some decisions to make about you before we go any further.”
I got up and replenished my drink. “Do you want a drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind a small vodka, if you have some.”
“Anything with it?”

He shook his head. I made the drinks and gave him his. He sipped it slowly. I went to the silver cigarette box on the table – another thing worth a few bob to someone like Kenny -- and selected a smoke for myself. I lit it and blew smoke out. His eyes were watching me.
“Do you smoke as well?” I asked him.
“I haven’t had one for weeks,” Kenny replied, watching the plume of smoke as it wafted across the room. “If I had one now, I’d probably choke on it. But still…..”
So I gave him a cigarette and he lit it, inhaling the smoke greedily.
“Aaah!” he breathed, and then coughed once or twice. “Nice! Thank you once again, Mister.”
He drew on the smoke heavily and then regarded me seriously over the wreaths of smoke surrounding him.
“So what is this all about?” he enquired gently. “Why am I here? What are these ‘decisions’ you have to make about me?” He clicked his fingers suddenly and his face cleared in understanding.
“Oh, I get it! You’re trying to decide how much to tell me about your own little secrets. Like what you’re into, what turns you on. Right?”
He leaned forward slightly and touched my knee.
“Mister, let me tell you,” he went on softly, “that in the last few months I’ve seen it all. And done most of it, too. What is your thing? Domination? Cross dressing? Watersports?” He leaned even closer to me. “Don’t worry. I’m cool with any of those, and more. Whatever it is, I’ll be happy to accommodate you. So why don’t you just relax and enjoy yourself?”
He was partly right, of course, but only partly. He sat back and regarded me again, waiting for my response.

I held out my hand. He took it, and slid along the sofa until he was close to me. I put my arm round him and felt the warmth of his skin, smelt the soap from his shower and felt the dampness of his tousled hair against me. He snuggled against my chest, and drew thoughtfully on his cigarette.
“Do you know,” he said quietly, “that this is only the second home I’ve been in since I left my own. It’s usually an alleyway, or the back of a car, or maybe a tiny room somewhere. And the only other home I was in resulted in these.” He gestured to the marks on his ribs. He snuggled against me a little more and his hand stroked my thigh again.

“It feels ---comfortable,” he finished.
I made up my mind.
“Kenny,” I said, “if I asked you stay all night, how much extra would you want?”
His face turned to look up at me.
“I’ll happily stay all night,” he answered me quietly. “And I don’t want any ‘extra’ as you put it. But if I stay, and in the morning you can let me have another shower, and maybe even a bit of toast or something, that would be plenty. You’ve already done more for me than all the other tricks I’ve known put together. Mister, I like you too. I don’t know why. You just seem different in a nice sort of way. I like that and I like you. I don’t want to rip you off. You don’t have to give me money. Unless you want to. Just a shower and a bit of breakfast, and I’ll happily stay all night with you.”
His eyes were on mine, a trusting, earnest, and yes, truthful look in them. I leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. The look in his eyes didn’t change, but he put his hand up against my cheek and held it there.
“What is your name?” he asked again.
“It’s Derek,” I told him.
“Derek,” he repeated. “Des? Can I call you that? Or better still, Desi?”
“Of course, if you want,” I told him.
He gazed into my face.
“Why do I feel so comfortable with you?” he asked. “When I asked you for a fiver, you were just another trick. So why does it feel so ---so--- right, being with you?”

I took his hand away from my cheek and held it for a moment, then let it go. Gently, I let my hand fall onto his thigh. It was deliciously smooth, warm and firm. I stroked his skin with my fingers and allowed them to travel up his thigh until they felt the legs of those incredibly sexy trunks.
Kenny was gazing at me, the cigarette smouldering unnoticed between his fingers. My fingers trailed up the outside of his pants, and I could feel the stiffness of the cum and pee on them. My questing fingers reached the open fly and I felt the jerk inside them as his cock began to harden. But my fingers moved on, tracing a line up to the waistband of his trunks, and then back down to that inviting, open fly. I so desperately wanted to put my hand in there, feel the heat of his gorgeous cock, feel it swell and harden in my hand. Beneath my fingertips I felt him becoming more erect. I could see the bulge his cock was starting to make inside his pants and feel it beginning to throb beneath my stroking fingertips.
With an incredible effort, I took my hand away from him.
“No-one,” said Kenny breathlessly, “no-one, ever, has turned me on as quick as that before. Tricks have to work on me a bit first. Why do I feel so horny so quickly? You know, I really want to have sex with you now. I want you to do that again until I’m so hard it hurts.”
I eased him away from me and stood up.
“Come on,” I said and held out my hand to him.
Pausing only briefly to stub out his cigarette, he let me lead him to another door. I threw it open and let him see inside.
“Oh, nice,” he commented. “Clean, airy, it’s a very nice room. Your bedroom?”
While Kenny had been enjoying his shower, I had quickly made the bed in the spare room and prepared it for him, hoping that he would agree to stay all night.
“No,” I answered. “Yours.”
He turned and looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“You sleep in here tonight,” I said. “I sleep in my room.”
“But – what about---”
“Much as I would like it,” I admitted, “not tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll see what happens.”

Kenny leaned against the doorway. He was staring at me and his face had taken on a slightly hard look. He stared at me for some moments and then nodded.
“I see,” he said. “I get it. You don’t trust me. You think I’m going to do enough to you to make you exhausted and fall asleep, and then disappear in the night with your silverware or your TV or something.”
He peered round to the inside of the bedroom door, then without a word, but giving me another hard look, he marched across to the front door and examined the lock. He gave a satisfied nod.
“There’s no key in the bedroom door,” he said, “but this a deadlock.” He pointed to the massive brass lock. “You can lock this with your key from inside, as well as out. So lock it. That way you won’t have to worry.” He folded his arms and stood there, watching me.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “That was my main worry. Unfortunately, by all accounts, that’s what rent boys and hookers do. Nick the wallet, the jewellery, the silver, anything they can easily carry out without making a noise or being noticed outside. And Kenny,” I finished quietly, “whatever I may think of you, whatever your circumstances, whatever I may have done for you, you are a rent boy, and I am just another trick.”
Kenny didn’t move for a while, and I wasn’t going to say anything more. It was up to him to respond. If I’d blown his game, he could get dressed and go.
Finally he unfolded his arms and came to me. His warm, brown arms went round me and he leant his face against my chest.
“I understand,” he whispered. “It’s reasonable for you to think like that. Most of the guys and hookers I know would do just that. But Desi, you aren’t just another trick. In some way, somehow, you are different, you’ve been good to me, you’re nice and I’ve told you I don’t want to rip you off.”
He released me and drew away from me. Staring straight into my eyes, he said, “Lock the door. If you want sex, come to me. Wake me if you have to. I hope you do.”
And with that he walked past me, into the bedroom and shut the door.

* * * *

The next day I spent as much time thinking about Kenny as I did about my work. I hadn’t gone to him in the night. I’d tossed and turned for a bit, my mind full of thoughts about what we could be doing, what I wanted to do so much, that sleep had been a while arriving. But eventually it did and I slept undisturbed until the alarm went off. Rousing on one elbow, I saw a folded piece of paper lying near me on the pillow.
Thoughts raced through my head. Had his fellow rent boys shown him how to pick a lock? Had he scarpered with as much of my valuables as he could stuff in his pockets? Was this note a final sneer at me, at my foolishness in trusting him at all? I opened the note and read it.
‘Desi, I am disappointed you didn’t come to me. I couldn’t sleep for a long time and I wanted sex with you so much. I got up and had a drink of milk. Hope you don’t mind. Wrote this for you at the same time. If I still deserve breakfast, please wake me. Kenny.’
And I had shaved and showered and then gone to his room where he was sleeping peacefully. The covers were half thrown off him and I could see the outline of his ass through those wonderful pants. There were small skid marks on them. His cheeks were firm and round, and I wanted to pull his pants down and run my hand over his ass and into the crack between his cheeks -------I pulled myself together. Gently shaking his shoulder I murmured that breakfast was almost ready. He opened one eye and whispered a hoarse thanks.
We talked a bit while he munched a bowl of cereals and some toast and drank two cups of coffee. Not about sex. That wasn’t mentioned once.
Eventually I asked him, “Where do you want to go? I can drop you off somewhere on the way to work.”
His face had fallen and he tilted his head to one side.