"Hey," Steve whispered. "Lift your legs."

The kid snorted, "No way, man."

"Come on, guy. What's to hurt? All I want to do is eat your ass a little."

"No one messes with my butt," the boy hissed through his teeth.

"I'm not messin' with it," Steve countered. "I'm just going to kiss it a little."

"No," the kid snapped back.

Steve shrugged, ran his tongue slowly the length of the boy's inner thigh, and once more swallowed the head of the kid's big delicious cock. Steve sucked the prick slowly, his head moving up and down the stem with fierce determination.

The kid's hips began to jerk. Steve knew he was close, but Steve still had more than 40 minutes left on the hour he'd paid for. This little urchin wasn't going to slip away quite that easily. To slow the impending eruption, Steve grasped the kid's balls and twisted them.

The boy groaned, his body jerking as he tried to pull away. "Hey," he snorted again.

Steve eased the hold a bit. The fire seemed to pass. The pre-cum no longer drooled out the end of the kid's dick. With a sigh he put the end of the boy's cock back into his mouth and began flicking his tongue across the head. This little piece of meat had cost him 50 bucks. He had every intention of getting his money's worth.

At 43, Steve was anything but old, yet he'd decided years ago that his "attractive" days were over. No self respecting twinkie would look twice at a man old enough to be his father. And Steve dearly loved little twinkies.

In fact, he loved them young and brittle and full of attitude. Alley cats to him were just much more exciting. "Rent them! Wash them! Then fuck their brains out!" had been his motto. A simple enough credo when you lived in an area crammed with such nubile little street whores.

"Come on, guy," the kid moaned. "Finish me off."

Slowly Steve let the boy's cock slip out of his mouth. "No," he replied. "Unless you guarantee seconds. I've still got a lot of time left on my investment."

"Man," the kid squirmed. "I gotta shoot. My nuts are achin'!"

As if for emphasis, the hustler squirmed against the rumpled sheets. Steve grinned. This kid may have been an alley cat, but he sure as hell was a cute one.

Steve had been walking along Santa Monica Boulevard just west of the French Market when he'd spotted this guy standing beside a bus bench on the opposite side of the street.

Probably in his early 20s, with buzzed short, light brown hair and a trim, provocative little body wrapped in a torn T-shirt and cut off Levi's that were carefully cuffed just above his knees, he blatantly stared into each car that moved past him.

Steve had decided right then, he'd pay any price for an hour with this little alley cat.

He'd almost run to his car, anxiously bumped it out of the parking space, and sped off down the side street toward the bus bench and his probably expensive dessert. This kid was going to look delicious sprawled naked on his percale sheets, his legs waving in the air like a wishbone begging to be split.

The kid was gone. Startled and peeved, Steve drove east a few blocks. Frustrated, he actually began mumbling to himself. He'd had his mouth all set to eat this kid, but somehow this alley cat had gotten away. Irritated, Steve wondered what son of a bitch had robbed him of his tough little street punk.

Three blocks past the bus bench, he was about to turn around and retrace his route when he spied the kid walking slowly along the boulevard, his little butt quivering with each step. The kid was still cruising every car that passed by him.

Steve almost caused an accident as he flicked off his turn signal and pulled back into the heavy traffic. This time, eyes on the prize, he wasn't going to lose it.

He'd returned the kid's stare, parked his Camaro, and waited for the kid to come up to the passenger window. They'd performed the usual no-one-dares-make-the-first-move formalities until Steve couldn't hold it any more.

"Listen," he said. "How much to suck your dick?"

At first the kid had just stared, wide eyed. "You a cop?" he'd finally asked.

"No" Steve countered. "I'm a cocksucker. How much?"

"Fifty," the kid replied without blinking.

"Fine," the older man snorted. "Now get in the fucking car."

Like a petulant child, the boy obeyed. His pouting little mouth didn't seem too thrilled by Steve's impatience.

"Where're we goin?" he asked quietly.

"To my place," replied Steve as he steered the car back into traffic and headed toward his apartment.

"Incidentally," Steve continued, "how old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" the young man shot right back.

"At least 18,1 hope," replied Steve.

"You're safe." laughed the kid. "I'm 20. On the 19th of April. OK?" For several blocks they drove in silence. "I get paid in advance," the kid finally said quietly.

"I don't pay until I've seen the merchandise," countered the equally insistent older man.

The boy interpreted Steve's words literally. As Steve moved the Camaro through traffic, the hustler suddenly began tugging open the front of his pants, shoving them down across his thighs, and flipping the waistband of his tattered shorts down below his nuts.

Steve glanced over. They were just passing a bus full of people. With any luck at all, the passengers on the West Hollywood Express dropped like jealous flies as the Camaro moved slowly past the crowded windows.

The boy's equipment was considerable, though delicate looking, and very pretty. A soft cock nestling in a mass of curly brown hair rested atop a snug pair of nuts. And his thighs, strong looking and hairless, spread as much as they could under the circumstances.

"It's 50 bucks," the boy said nonchalantly.

Without another word, Steve struggled into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills, and, fumbling a bit, peeled off a pair of 20s and a ten.

"Thanks," the kid replied as he finished buttoning his Levi's. took the money, and shoved it into his front pocket.

Neither of them said another word until Steve pulled the Camaro into the underground parking lot.

"You live here?" the kid asked.

Steve glanced over at him. His first instinct was to snap, "No, I just park here. I live in Pacoima." Instead, he just smiled and nodded.

Upstairs, Steve began mixing a couple of drinks while the kid wandered around the living room checking out the furnishings. Probably casing the joint, Steve smirked to himself. "Nice place," the kid whispered as Steve handed him the gin and tonic.

"It'll look better when you're naked," Steve replied.

With a shrug the boy set the glass on the coffee table and began pulling off his clothes. The T-shirt slid off revealing the rest of his tight, naturally developed chest with a pair of large nipples that just seemed to be begging for a kiss and a bite. The shoes came off. And the socks. Then the boy opened his denim shorts, shoved them down, and kicked them off.

His Jockeys were old and frayed. Steve loved it.

The whole time the kid just stared at Steve, his eyes boring holes into the older man's. "The shorts, too?" the boy asked.

What a stupid question, Steve thought, but instead of saying anything that might jeopardize his 60 minute love affair, he just smiled and nodded.

With another shrug, the kid hooked his thumbs in the waistband and shoved them down. He kicked them free and then stood defiantly in the middle of the room, his fists braced against his hips, as pretty as any centerfold Steve had ever seen.

Smooth as a baby's butt, the kid's pink flesh seemed to glow in the dim light. He had no hair anywhere except under his arms and above his delicate cock.

"Is It OK?" the kid asked. For the first time, Steve detected a crack, a hint of juvenile insecurity, in the hustler's facade.

Without answering him, Steve set his scotch down on the same coffee table, took the boy by the arm, and began pulling him toward the bedroom. I’'II show you how 'OK' it is, he thought as he began unbuttoning his own shirt.

Again the kid resisted when Steve tried to lift his legs. "I said 'No,' "he snapped.

"And I said 'Yes,'" Steve countered just as fiercely. Like it or not, the boy's legs bent backwards until his tight little butt rose off the sheets and hovered in the air. As pretty, as tight as the rest of his body, it glowed dramatically in the soft light from the bathroom.

"You're just goin' to kiss it, right?" the boy asked a bit nervously.

"Yeah," replied Steve. "And lick it. And maybe tongue-fuck it for awhile. You mind?"

The kid didn't respond. He just relaxed and allowed his knees to be settled back onto his shoulders. The boy's butthole clenched tightly shut. Steve ran his tongue around the perimeter, up over the cheeks, back into the crack, and up to the balls. Steve was all over the kid's ass.

For the first time since he'd picked up the boy, he noticed the kid actually begin to react to his love making. The hustler's cock, hard now and eager, bobbed slightly against his belly; his balls convulsed as a major tremor moved along the soft insides of his thighs.

Steve fastened his mouth directly to the kid's tight little butt hole. It smelled wonderfully of soap and sweat. Using his tongue like a long probe, Steve forced it in against the clenched muscle until it finally opened. Steve's tongue slipped inside the kid just as the boy started to buck and twist on the bed. At first Steve thought it was because he'd finally entered the boy's asshole, yet as he stared up between the kid's legs, he saw the first burst of come shoot out the end of his twitching cock. Amazingly this kid seemed to be as anally erotic as any person Steve had ever met.

Even though his cock was still spurting come across his stomach and his chest, the boy continued to butt his ass up against Steve's mouth. "Please," he sighed, his head twisting from side to side. "My ass. I gotta come! Gotta … Oh, man …"

Consciously. Steve avoided any contact with the boy's pulsing dick. He still had 35 minutes left in his investment. The kid may have come, but the session wasn't over; not by a long shot!

For several minutes he burrowed into the kid's butt hole, his tongue opening up that reluctant little muscle until the boy moaned and squirmed on the bed, his still drooling cock poking up toward the ceiling.

"Oh, man. Oh, man," the kid kept sighing as his body shuddered and jerked.

Without waiting for approval. Steve took his index finger and, without removing his tongue, slipped it too into the hot little cavity. The boy groaned, clenched his butt, and tried to squirm away, but Steve was in complete control.

A finger now, he thought deliberately, a big ole' dick later. The kid probably didn't realize it yet, but Steve had every intention of plugging that gorgeous little butt.

"Ow," the boy whined, his ass shaking beneath Steve's penetration. "Get it out of there!" he grunted. "Shit! I told you. Nobody messes with my butt … "

Steve ignored him. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his finger back and forth inside the kid's asshole.

He didn't feel anything until after he'd toppled over sideways and flipped off the bed. The kid had levered his leg back until he could plant his foot squarely against Steve's shoulder. With a tremendous smack he'd shoved the bigger man down onto the floor.

Before Steve could react, the kid was off the bed and grabbing his clothes.

"Motherfucker!" he snarled. "I told you, nobody messes with my ass. Not nobody! Goddamn it! You goddamn sons of bitches think just because you pay for it, you can do anything you goddamn want. Well, buddy, you can't. Not with me. You touch me again, and I'll knock you into next week!"

Raging around the room the kid staggered into his clothes before Steve figured out what had happened. He pulled himself up off the floor. Without planning it, Steve ended up standing between the kid and the bedroom door.

Seldom had Steve seen such anger, such hatred. The kid was crouched down all prepared to take on anybody who stood in his way. Still a bit stunned, more from surprise than from the actual blow, Steve watched the kid, almost enjoying the boy's defense of his virginity.

"Listen, punk … ," he started to say.

"No, asshole," the kid shouted. "You listen! I ain't takin' no more of that shit. Not from you. Not from nobody."

"I paid for …"

"You paid for my dick. Nothing else …"

"I've still got 30 minutes …"

"You ain't got shit, buddy. I told you the fuckin' rules. You don't play by ‘em, you don't play at all. Now, get the fuck out of my way!"

"No," Steve said simply.

The kid's eyebrows furrowed. Anger like a chiseled mask settled across his face. "I'll kill you, you motherfucker …"

Again Steve was surprised by the sheer determination, the increasing physical boldness of this kid. He'd seemed so unimpressive, even nonthreatening, when Steve had first seen him on the boulevard. He'd seemed even more so, naked. But now, enraged, he appeared to swell, to erupt, like a blowfish warning off the predators.

"I want to fuck your ass," Steve added quietly.

"Fuck you!" the kid retorted.

"OK." Steve grinned, "but I get to do it first."

The boy's eyes squinted a bit, the rage darkening the shadows beneath his eyebrows.

Steve watched the boy simmer. Usually alley cats were just alley cats – Feed them! Fuck them! And then turn them loose! Yet, suddenly, this particular little creature had begun developing a very special interest – an individuality, that was creeping insidiously into Steve's psyche. Steve knew he could easily take the kid, yet that didn't seem to stop the boy at all.

For several minutes they just stared at each other like tom cats stalking each other in a dark alley.

All the while Steve's interest slowly modified. What had begun as a simple physical need was now becoming an emotional involvement. There was just something so intriguing, so magnificent about this kid.

Something was swelling deep inside Steve's guts.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say softly. He blinked at the gentleness of the words.

The kid blinked, too.

Again they stood their ground, each watching the other. "I don't even know your name," Steve added.

For a moment the kid didn't respond. Finally, fidgeting a bit, he replied. "It's Clay."

Steve just stared. If this kid's name was Clay, Steve was the Czar of Russia!

The kid seemed to sense the disbelief. Again the hostility wrapped itself around him, but this time it was more like a see through blouse, "Now, get the fuck out of my way." The young man said it, yet this time it didn't have any real force.

"What's you’re real name?" Steve pressed again.

"I told you …"

"Your name's not Clay," Steve rattled. "It's probably something like Edwin. Or Hiram. Or Mortimer …"

The kid's face contorted. "Hiram?"

"OK, Well, maybe something like Ralph. Or Butch …"

The snicker slipped reluctantly out of the kid's mouth.

"Or maybe even, Bruce …"

The snicker turned into a snort of laughter.

"Whatever it is, I've still got more than 20 minutes left. I want to suck your cock, and I won't mess with your ass. I promise."

"Bullshit!" the kid spit right back at him.

At first Steve thought of a typical wisecrack answer, but for some reason he didn't understand, he just replied, "I swear."

The kid didn't move; didn't respond at all.

"Please." Steve heard himself say.

Finally the kid began moving toward him, his body tense and a bit threatening. "My name's really Paul," he added quietly. With a hint of shyness, even insecurity, he glanced down at the floor. "And, please, don't mess with my ass any more, OK?"

Steve took the boy in his arms and kissed him. They kissed for a long time. Finally the boy's arms rose up behind Steve’s back and began hugging him too. Steve crushed the boy against his chest, his tongue burrowing into the kid's mouth.

They made love again, slowly and with growing affection. Once more Steve sucked the boy's cock and licked those pretty balls. And, after a few minutes, the boy began returning the favors.

The moment the kid's tongue touched Steve's cock, the older man thought it would end right there. Cum boiled at the base of his prick. If this kid even slipped Steve's cock head into his mouth, he'd blast a hole through the back of the boy's head.

Yet he didn't come – not right then. Instead, they lay on the bed playing with each other, giggling softly while they kissed and sucked, murmuring nonsensical words against the other's flesh.

As Steve's feelings slowly began to alter, the kid's anger also seemed to mellow. He seemed to relax, to enjoy Steve's tender appreciation.

Steve licked the beautiful body, nipping at the tits, swirling his tongue along the stem of the boy's cock under his delicate, hairless balls, along the soft inner flesh of the thighs. He made no attempt to reach that magnificent butt hole.

The kid seemed to revel in the attention. He lay sighing on the bed, his body writhing slowly, his fingers twisting again and again in Steve's hair. When the kid finally came, Steve’s mouth was fastened in the dark pubic hair, his throat sucking the thick come out of the boy's hot cock.

Without it being expected, the kid suddenly twisted around and began returning the favor, Steve shot almost instantly, his own fat cock plunging deeply into the kid's throat.

Afterwards they lay on the bed, their arms wrapped around each other. Finally the kid whispered. "I'm sorry." Bracing himself up off the bed, Steve stared at him quizzically. "For not lettin' you mess with my ass."

Steve didn't say a word.

"A couple of months ago," the kid continued, his eyes pointedly staring at the wall, "I let a guy fuck me. I needed the money. Anyway, he got inside and then wouldn't stop. He hurt me. I thought he was goin' to kill me. When I finally got away from him, I swore nobody’d ever do that to me again. It hurt for a week afterward. So, I'm sorry."

Steve didn’t say anything. He just bent down and kissed the boy softly on the lips.

"Incidentally," the boy added, his eyes flashing back to stare into Steve's. "My name's really Paul."

Steve smiled and kissed him again. The twenty minutes turned into two hours.

They say an alley cat chooses his master, not the other way around.

Two weeks later Steve answered the door. Paul stood in the hallway, a battered suitcase, two cardboard boxes, and a plastic bag were clustered around his feet.

"Hi," the kid said a bit self-consciously.

Steve just smiled, grabbed for the packages around the kid's feet, and ushered him into the apartment.

Ten minutes later they were lying naked on Steve's bed, the kids legs bobbing in the air. Steve licked at his delicious butt hole until the boy whimpered and squirmed.

"Please." Paul whispered.

Steve didn't wait for a second invitation. Bracing the kid's ankles against his shoulders, he leaned forward and began rubbing the thick head of his anxious cock against the equally eager butt hole. When it finally popped inside, the kid groaned, his hips rocking upwards as Steve's prick slid slowly up into the depths of the boy's guts.

This fuck is going to be very special. Steve thought, his eyes never leaving the boy’s. This time the alley cat was doing it because he wanted to, and he was doing it for free. Steve slammed his hips against that gorgeous butt, his prick burrowing all the way into the kid’s asshole. Paul whimpered a little, yet he made no effort to get away; all the while he stared up at Steve. To him, the equation was very simple: To get something you always have to give something else. Paul knew it. Letting this guy pound his butt was giving him a place to live, a sanctuary, at least for a little while. With that, he clenched his butt hole tightly, just as Steve stroked downwards into him.

They smiled at each other, kissed a little. Each knew the price and, at this moment, each was willing to pay it. Another alley cat had found a home.