The young hustler sat at the bar, casting his eyes around the room, looking for a prospective customer.  He was only seventeen, but he had a masterfully forged driver’s license which said that he was nineteen.    He was very good at spotting a likely candidate.

The man would be in his thirties or early forties, slightly overweight, usually beginning to bald.  There would be a pale circle on his ring finger from where he had removed his wedding band.  If the subject was new at this, he would be looking nervously around.  If he was experienced he could easily spot the hustler at the bar, and he would approach the boy.  Some of them would offer to buy him a drink; others would come right out and ask him, “How much?” 

He was prepared for that.  The boy had actually typed up a menu.  It contained a list of sexual acts that he would perform on his customer, or that the customer could perform on him.  Next to each activity was the price he charged.  Also, in bold letters at the bottom of the menu, he had typed a message explaining that the customer could buy his services for the entire night for an ADDITIONAL $250.  He rarely got an overnight customer because most of his clients were married.  Occasionally an out of town business man took him back to his hotel and he collected a big fee for the night.

He had been hustling for almost three years now.  As a boy he lived in a middle class neighborhood in St. Louis with his parents and his uncle.  The boy’s uncle was only two year’s older than he, and was being raised by the boy’s father and mother.

One day his father came home from work early and found the two boys enjoying a hot game of sixty-nine.  He kicked them both out of the house, leaving two teen aged boys to fend for themselves.  At sixteen, his uncle was able to get a job at a Burger King in a nearby town, but he decided to ride the rails to Los Angeles and West Hollywood.  He had heard lots about the gay life there.  Once there, he began to work the bars.  He actually made a good living, and because he looked older than he was, he convinced a prospective landlord to rent him a small studio apartment.  He completely lost contact with his family in St. Louis including his uncle.

He had been in the bar for almost a half hour and had not yet spotted a likely candidate.  He was ‘cruised’ by several hot looking guys but he gave them the brush off.  He was completely caught off guard by what happened next.

He looked up to see a man standing in front of him.  He had noticed every last person in the bar, but had not seen this dude before.  Where did he come from?  No matter, the boy was mesmerized.  The man standing before him was a Greek God.  He appeared to be about twenty years old, but at the same time, he appeared to be ancient.  He stood 6’2” tall.  His hair was long and straight, and the man tied it in a pony tail which came down below his shoulder blades.  His eyes were jet black.  His lips were blood red, but you could see that it was his natural color and not make-up.  There was not an ounce of fat on him, yet he was not particularly muscular, just lean.  He was wearing jeans, a tee shirt and floppies.  But what was so striking about him was his complexion.  He was so white you could see his veins, and his eyelashes were so long and black against his white skin, that the boy thought he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

The man looked at the person sitting on the bar stool next to the boy, and immediately that person picked up his drink and vacated his seat, relinquishing it to the handsome stranger.

“Would you like a fresh drink?” the man asked the boy.  As he asked he put his hand on the boy’s arm.  His touch was ice cold to the boy, and at the same time it felt as if the man’s hand was burning through his skin.  He sensed that he should have felt pain, but the man’s touch was strangely sensual.  He also wondered where the man was from.  He spoke English with some sort of accent.

“Sure,” he answered.

Nothing more was said until the bartender put the boy’s drink down in front of him.  The drink was almost pure soda water.  The bartender knew that when a hustler accepted a drink from a John, they really did not want to drink and get drunk.  They needed to have their wits about them.

“Aren’t you going to have a drink?” the boy asked.

“No, I don’t drink,” the beautiful, strange man answered.  He let the boy take a few sips and then he asked him, “If I were to take you with me on a trip around the world, who would miss you?”

“Nobody,” the boy answered, “but who says I would go with you?”

“It was just a hypothetical question.  If that were to happen, who would we have to inform about your whereabouts?”

“Nobody,” the boy answered more emphatically.  “Why are you asking me these questions?”

The man didn’t answer, but his black, black eyes peered intently into the boy’s soft brown eyes.  The boy was mesmerized.  Suddenly he knew that he wanted to be with this man, to explore his body with his tongue and drink the man’s juices.  He knew instinctively that he could not charge this man for his services.  He also knew that no matter what he did, this man would never be satisfied.  It was deflating to the boy to realize that he had met a man he could never satisfy, or so he thought. 

The man took the boy’s hand and said, “Come with me.”  He led the boy out of the bar.  They walked hand in hand for several streets.  As they walked, the neighborhood grew darker and seedier.  If the boy had not been following the man in a nearly comatose state he would have been frightened.  The man led him down a dark alley.  They reached a steel door and the man peered at the door, which opened and then closed without his touching it.  The door led into a beautiful room, totally different than what you would expect in this neighborhood.   There was a large king sized bed with plush pillows, beautiful sky blue linens and a comforter.  The walls of the room were painted the same sky blue as the linens.  There was a night stand with a lamp next to the bed and a dresser on the opposite wall.  There were no windows in the room.

The lamp on the night stand had a blue shade so the dim light it emitted was a soft blue as well.  Without speaking, the man’s eyes commanded the boy to disrobe.  The boy obeyed, and at the same time the man disrobed.  They stood facing each other completely naked.  They each reached out and took each other’s cocks in their hands.  The boy got immediately hard, but the man did not.

The boy fondled and coddled the man’s cock.  It was eerily cold, yet like the man’s touch, it seared his palm.  Finally the man began to erect.  The boy wanted to fall to his knees and take the man’s cock in his mouth, but somehow he was unable to move.  Again the man looked at him.  His eyes ordered him to lie down on the bed.  The boy did as he was bid, lying on his back, legs spread and cock pointing to the ceiling.  The man climbed on the bed and lay on top of the boy.  The boy marveled that he felt no weight.  The man was as light as a feather.

The strange man put his lips on the boy’s and forced them open with his tongue.  The boy was happy to oblige, but suddenly he turned his head away.  The man’s saliva had a strange and bitter taste.  He had never tasted anything like it before.  Unfortunately, when he tasted the saliva, he slipped even more from consciousness.

The man placed his mouth on the boy’s neck.  From some distant realm of near consciousness the boy thought that he would have one or more visible love bites in the morning.  He could feel little pin pricks piercing his neck and he lost consciousness totally.

The man worked his way down the boy’s body and reached his engorged cock.  The cock was pulsing with blood.  The man could hear it, see it and almost taste it.  He could bear it no longer.  All resistance left him and he bit into the engorged tool and sucked out all the blood.  As he sucked he could feel his own orgasm approaching.  He came in an ecstatic series of spasms, as the boy’s penis became more and more flaccid.  Suddenly, the man pulled himself up with a scream.  The boy’s blood had suddenly turned from pure honey and nectar into a bitter acrid solution, evidence that the boy was dead, and the strange man could never drink the blood of a dead person.

The man pulled the boy’s corpse into his arms and held him tightly.  “I’m sorry,” he sobbed to the body.  “I need to feed.  I didn’t want to kill you, but such is my life.  I have no choice.”  He cried bitterly for some time, all the while rocking the boy’s body in his arms.  Finally he looked down.  The body was covered with blood, his blood.  His cum was blood and his tears were blood, and they covered the boy’s body.

He wrapped the body in the bed linens so that no blood remained as evidence.  Not bothering to dress, he lifted the body inside the bed sheets as if it had no weight at all and he left the room.  He seemed to float rather than walk until he came to a nearby crematorium.  He went to the back door and it opened for him.  He entered the facility and put the body down on the floor.  The door of the crematorium oven opened at his command and he placed the body inside, linens and all.  He closed the oven door and the fire ignited.

As he walked home, he was grateful that he would not have to feed for at least five more days.  Before entering his lodgings, he stood in front of his door and sniffed the air.  He detected nothing, and that saddened him even more. He was constantly sniffing the air, trying to detect another creature just like him.  He yearned for a companion.  His life was so lonely.  He entered his room, and bolted the door behind him.  He removed fresh linen from a dresser drawer and noted that after this set, there was only one left.  He made a mental note to shop for bed linen.  He made up the bed and shut the dim blue light.  He fell asleep quickly and did not wake for six days.

On the Friday evening following the hustler’s death, Bookey (Booker) Stockwell jointly celebrated his eighteenth birthday and his senior prom.   After the prom, he, his date and a few friends went back to his house. His mom had made a delicious birthday cake, which she served with coffee, tea and soda pop.  His friends had brought gifts with them and after Bookey opened them, they left one couple at a time, until he was left alone with his date.  His parents had gone to bed some time ago.

The two young graduates got into Bookey’s car.  “Let’s go to ‘Lover’s Leap’ before you take me home,” she said.  “After all,” she continued, “it’s prom night.”  She reached over and laid her hand on Bookey’s crotch.

Bookey had been dreading this moment for months.  Prom night was when young people traditionally lost their virginity, especially if they were sweethearts.  The young man had no idea how he would get through this.  Bookey had known for years that he was gay, but had done everything he could to hide the fact.  He became a real high school jock, playing quarterback for the football team and pitching for the baseball team.  He avoided dating one girl and opted for as many girls as possible, not letting anyone of them get the wrong idea.

He knew that if he was to preserve his secret he needed to fuck his date.  They drove silently to ‘Lover’s Leap.’  The girl rubbed her hand up and down Bookey’s inner thigh during the entire trip.  It was prom night after all, and Bookey could not find a place to park.

“I guess we’ll have to leave,” he said, but the girl spied a spot way at the end of the observation area and urged him to park there.  As soon as Bookey turned off the ignition and shut the lights, she was all over him.  She made him get into the back of the car.  There, she grabbed at his cock and tried to zip open his pants.  Bookey knew that he had to do something quickly.  He undid the cummerbund of his rented tuxedo, and helped her unzip his fly.  He took out his still limp cock and placed it into her waiting palm.  He started to kiss her, and he put his hand on her breasts.  Finally he conjured up the vision of the man who always occupied his masturbation fantasies.

His fantasy lover was named Ernesto.  He was tall and lean and not too muscular.  His straight black hair was long and tied back in a pony tail.  His long black eyelashes accentuated his alabaster skin.  His eyes were mysterious and jet black.  His lips were rose red and he fantasized kissing them.  He was lost in the man’s arms and he was caressing the man’s hard uncircumcised cock.  Now his hardon was throbbing with desire.  The girl climbed on top of him.  She positioned his cock at the opening to her vagina and pushed down on his cock as he pushed up and entered her.  She gave a little squeal as he broke her hymen.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied but aren’t you going to put on a condom?”

He had grown so horny thinking about his dream man, that he had completely forgotten to use protection..  He reached into his wallet and extracted a lubricated condom.  She helped him put it on.  He reentered her easily now and they began to fuck.  He was dreaming that he was fucking the handsome stranger of his fantasies.  They were lying naked in an open field in some distant, far away land.  The place did not look much like California.  The man was caressing his face, kissing him, and for some reason, he called him Johnny.

He came long before she did, but he had prepared for this moment and he knew what to do.  He removed the condom and tossed it out the window.  Then he laid his date down on the back seat and he went down on her.  His tongue found her clitoris after a little while, and he began to run his tongue lightly over it while he dreamed he was sucking Ernesto’s cock.  He felt himself getting hard again as she began to moan and writhe with pleasure.  In time her body began to spasm and she began to scream as she experienced the first orgasm that a man had ever given to her.  Bookey kept sucking away and wasn’t even aware that she came two more times before she made him stop.

She pulled him up to her and began to kiss him hard, then gently, and murmured in his ear, “You are fantastic.” 

She saw that he was hard again and she made him switch positions with her.  Her tongue found his cock and she started to suck it just as she had fantasized doing for years.  He began to picture his fantasy lover sucking him off and he came again in no time.  Much to his surprise, she swallowed his cum.  She climbed up on top of him and said once again, “You are fantastic.”

After a while they uncoupled and got dressed as best they could and Bookey took her home.

The beautiful strange man didn’t usually dream, but there are rare occasions when he did.  Just before he awakened from his six day hibernation he had a dream.  Not only was this a rare thing to happen to him, but he remembered the dream in great detail.

He was sitting in the passenger side of a two year old Pontiac.  A handsome young man was in the driver’s seat.  Somehow he knew that the car belonged to the young man’s father.  The two of them got out of the car intending to sit in the back.  He looked at the beautiful young man.  They were nothing alike.  The young man was 6’4” tall, muscular and athletic.  His blond hair was cut short in a buzz.  His eyes were blue and when the young man looked at him, his gaze seemed to shine right through him.

They got into the back seat and locked the door.  Then they started groping for each other’s cocks and finally they were free of their clothing, and their erect cocks were out there for the taking.  The young man’s cock was bigger and fatter than his.  He laid himself on the back seat in a position to allow the young man to enter him.  The young man began to do so, but stopped to put on a lubricated condom.  He found that strange.  The young man reached his climax quickly.  He withdrew and ripped off the condom and immediately went down on him and brought him to orgasm three times.  In his dream he gushed out real semen, not blood.  In gratitude he went down on the young man and gave him another orgasm.  They kissed and lay in each other’s arms for a while and his dream ended.  When he awoke a short time later he had to make himself believe that his dream wasn’t real.

The night after the prom, Bookey vowed to really lose his virginity, with a man.  It was Saturday night.  His folks went out, but their friends had picked them up and his dad said he could use his car.  He dressed as skimpily as he could; no underwear, short shorts, a tank top and sandals.  His muscles bulged and rippled as he moved.  He had been doing some spying and knew exactly where the gay section of town was, and where all the gay bars were.  He drove there and paid to park in a ramp because he was unfamiliar with the neighborhood.

As he entered one of the bars, several hustlers gave him the eye, but they quickly rejected him as a possible client.  This hunk needn’t pay for anything.  He found a seat at the bar, the very same one that the young hustler had sat in six nights ago.  A dozen gorgeous young men approached him and asked to buy him a drink.  “No,” he said, “I’m waiting for someone.”  He had no idea why he said that.  He came here to get laid.  He wasn’t waiting for anyone in particular.  But after he said that for the fourth time, he gave the room a good looking over.  There were some very good looking men out there, but nobody who made his cock jump.  He wanted the first time to be very special.

Suddenly there he was.  He was standing right in front of him, and it seemed as if he had come out of no place.  Both men gasped.

“It’s you!” they said in unison, and then they both started to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I have dreamed about you all my life,” Bookey said.  “Blindfold me and I’ll draw you from memory, every line on your body and every blood vessel.”

“I only dreamed about you for the first time a few hours ago,” the strange man said, “but I would know you anywhere.”

The two men fell into each other’s arms and began to kiss.  The strange man could smell the other’s blood.  He was hungry and he was frightened.  He could never hurt this person.  He loved him.  He pushed Bookey aside and asked, “Will you trust me for about an hour?  I have urgent business, but I don’t want to lose you.  Promise you’ll be here when I get back.”

The young man nodded. 

“Please don’t go off with any of these vultures.  I swear I’ll come back for you.”

Bookey took the strange man’s hand and put it on his crotch.  The strange man felt Bookey’s erect cock.  “Does that feel like I’m going to go off without you?”

The strange man smiled and asked,  “When you touch me, do I feel cold to you?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Bookey wanted to know.  “You feel as warm as toast.  Don’t you know that I have loved you for years and years?  I thought at first that you were a fantasy, but in time you became as real to me as my parents.  I knew I would find you some day and I would be yours for all eternity.”

“Eternity is a long time,” the strange man said.

“It would be a second in time if I could spend it with you,” Bookey said.

The strange man smiled and repeated, “Wait for me, please, I beg you.”

Bookey nodded and said, “Before you go tell me your name.”

“Ernest!” said the man, as he ran off.

Ernest ran up and down the streets in a state of euphoria.  He had not loved anyone since his mortal days in Italy over three hundred years ago.  He was Ernesto then and madly in love with Gianni.  One day the parish priest, who was old and deformed, took the men to his room.  He had somehow hypnotized both boys.  First he drained Gianni of all his blood and then he turned Ernesto by exchanging blood with him.  He forced Ernesto to be his lover.

Ernesto swore he would get revenge.  The two men mostly slept during the day.  When the priest needed to do church business during the day, or to serve mass, he kept the church very dark and returned immediately to his chambers.  On one such occasion the priest rushed back to their room.  He locked the door and went immediately to sleep.  Ernesto was only pretending to be asleep.  He got up quietly and removed a wooden stake from under his mattress.  With one strong push he propelled the stake through the priest’s heart.  It was amazing.  No blood flowed.  The priest’s body simply shriveled up and turned to dust.  “Victory,” Ernesto yelled. “This is for you my beloved Gianni.”

Ernesto waited until dark.  He took the linens containing the priest’s remains and scattered the dust to the winds.  He helped himself to the priest’s stash and took a coach to France.  A little over a hundred years later he sailed to America.

Now as Ernest, he prowled the streets looking for food so that he would not harm Bookey in his greed.  Finally, he came across a homeless man sleeping against a dumpster in a dark, deserted alley.  Malnutritioned subjects like this one did not have the best tasting blood, but he didn’t care.  He just wanted to feed and get back to Bookey.

When he returned to the bar, he found Bookey on the same barstool, nursing the same drink.  He rushed up to him.  The two men hesitated for only a second and fell into each other’s arms.  Ernest forgot himself and opened his lips offering Bookey his tongue.  Their tongues caressed each other for a bit and Ernest realized that Bookey had not pulled away in disgust.  He separated for a moment and he could see a little speckle of blood on Bookey’s lips.

“Are you alright?” Ernest asked Bookey.

“Yes! Why do you always ask these strange questions?”

“How did I taste to you?”

Like sweet potato pie,” Bookey answered and resumed kissing Ernest.

Ernest wanted to hypnotize Bookey and take him home with him, but he didn’t want to force him.  He was about to ask him to come home with him, when Bookey said, “Of course, I want to go home with you.”  Had Bookey read his mind?  He tested his premise.

“I love you,” he projected telepathically to Bookey.

“Bookey smiled back and said, “I love you too.  It never occurred to him to communicate silently as Ernest had.

Ernest took Bookey’s hand and they got his dad’s car out of the parking ramp.  They retraced the route Ernest had taken less than a week earlier with another young man.  When Ernest’s door opened and closed by itself, Bookey wasn’t surprised.  Since laying eyes on Ernest, nothing could surprise him.

Once inside the two men undressed.  They stood facing each other and both had throbbing erections.  They started out by playing sixty-nine and then Ernest begged Bookey to fuck him.  “It’s been a very long time,” he said to Bookey.

“I know,” Bookey responded.  “More than three hundred years.”

“How did you know?”

“I can read your mind just as you can read mine,” Bookey answered.  Suddenly he burst out laughing.

“What?” Ernest wanted to know.

“If we can read each other’s minds we damn well better be faithful lovers.  I’ll fuck you after I suck you dry.”  Ernest panicked at the thought that Bookey might be revolted by his emissions of blood, but Bookey soothed him.  “Don’t be afraid.  It will be fine, I promise.”

Bookey went down on Ernest.  It was the first time he had sucked cock, but Ernest kept thinking of what he would like done.  Bookey read his mind and complied with his silent wishes.  Ernest came, screaming loudly and gushing his blood down Bookey’s throat.  Bookey drank every drop, and collapsed in exhaustion next to Ernest.

“That tasted like honey,” Bookey told Ernest.  “Turn me,” Bookey begged, “so I can shoot my blood up your ass and seal our union.  I can’t be separated from you ever, not for an instance.”

Ernest jumped out of bed and got a knife from a cabinet.  Before Bookey could say anything Ernest slit his wrist.  “Drink!” he said to Bookey, “before the skin heals itself.”  Bookey bent down and drank as much blood as he could, but the wound was healing fast.

“How will I know when I have turned?” Bookey asked.

Ernest turned Bookey’s face toward the bedside lamp.  “I am going to light it.  Tell me what you see.”

Ernest lit the lamp and Bookey recoiled.  “It’s too bright,” he yelled.  “Turn it off.”

Ernest engulfed Bookey in his arms, hugging him as tight to him as he could.  “You’re mine now my dearest love.  Fuck me and let’s see what comes out of you.”

They made love for hours, but then they got up and drove Bookey’s dad’s car back to his house before daylight could come. 

“What should I do, love?” Bookey asked Ernest. “I can’t just run out without an explanation.  It’s not fair to them. 

“Leave them a note saying that you are going to visit a friend up in Canada using a rental car.  Tell them you are going for the fishing.  We’ll go up to Canada and we’ll abandon the car there. 

Bookey’s dad always left a pad and pencil in the glove compartment.  Bookey wrote the note and left it in the car.  They ran back to Ernest’s place so quickly that they were a mere blur.

“We’ll rent a car,” Ernest said.  “We’ll abandon it just over the border in some deserted spot.  Sooner or later someone will find it, but not your body.  You’ll be one of those persons who disappear without a trace.  I’m sorry to put your parents through this, but you are really dead you know, and you have to burn all the old bridges, so you can start your new existence.”

“I know my love.  It was my choice.  You didn’t force me.  Now kiss me and let’s make love before we leave for Canada.”

To be continued…