Only For Money

"Ready?" asked Michael.

Jon sucked harder on the naked hustler's prong, felt Michael's thighs tense under Jon's bare chest and shoulders.

"Okay -- take me!" Michael gasped, and jetted his load into Jon --

-- who sucked harder, swallowed, sucked harder yet, sucked until he had drained the young bodybuilder dry. Michael relaxed with a long sigh, limp now on the bed under Jon's weight.

"Enough!" panted Michael. "Gimme some time -- to catch my -- breath. Damn, but you are a hard-sucking, hungry stud.

"Yeah?" Jon raised his head, licked his lips, realized he was wearing a satisfied grin. "What'd you expect, when I get my hands on a good-looking, hot-cocked muscle-stud like you?" He rolled to one side, stretched, then let his naked body go limp. He felt the bed shift, blinked lazily, and saw Michael get to his feet. Jon closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his head and glanced around the bedroom.

Wide shoulders, now clad in black leather, turned from the window. "Fucking rain must of started while you were blowing me," Michael growled. He tossed his head to throw a curly lock of black hair up and away from his eyes, then picked up his Levi's from the floor and turned back to the window with them dangling from his right hand. "Coming down real fucking hard now."

"A couple of real loud rolls of thunder went off while -- while I was taking you off." Jon started to pull a corner of the sheet over his own impressive hard-on, then tossed the sheet aside and gripped that hard-on instead. "But you were so close, breathing hard -- you did like it, didn't you?"

"Studs in my profession always say `yes' to that question, but -- couldn't ya tell? That was a real turn-on. Just 'cause I do this for money doesn't mean I don't like getting swung on by an expert." His voice shifted to a growl again as he scowled out the window. "Be Hell, cruising on the street with that stuff coming down."

"You could try one of the bars -- the Silver Shore or --"

"I ain't in the mood to fight off all the que-- you know, all the studs that want to cop a free round. I'm strictly for money, like I told ya. 'Sides, I'm at that awkward age: old enough to fuck, not fucking old enough to drink, so getting in the bars can be -- you know . . ." Michael stepped back from the window and ran what Jon felt was a coolly appraising eye over Jon's naked body. "I be fucked if I can figger how come, with your good looks and how well you're 'quipped, you're hiring a hustler like me, 'stead of picking up some cash yourself -- or at getting it free."

Jon squeezed his own hard cock. "Well, you know how it is -- free stuff's okay, but when a really first-class stud comes along, to Hell with what you cost." He reached out and touched Michael's bare thigh.

Jon saw the broad-shouldered hustler glance at himself in a mirror on the wall: black-leather-jacketed to the waist, all gleaming highlights and sooty shadow; below, he was bucked naked, with lean hips, powerfully muscled legs, and wide feet that gripped the rug. Still intent on his reflection, Michael curled his hips to thrust his re-stiffening prong at its reflection. "Yeah? I don't look bad at that. You liked doing me?"

"Fuck, man; couldn't you tell that? You're built, and you're hung, you got a face to go with your muscles, and then the way you responded when I was working on you -- first class and then some!"

"Like I said, I'm strictly a hustler, only for money and all that; but I don't see why I can't give a score a good time for his money, 'specially a sexy stud like you are."

Jon, on the bed, grinned. Michael grinned back, then glanced over his broad shoulder at the pouring rain outside. "It's coming down like a fucking flood, now. I'd hate to get this jacket wet. I just got it the other day, that's why I'm broke."

Outside, thunder muttered. Rain gurgled down drain pipes, hissed steadily on the roof. Inside, Jon licked his lips slowly. "Yeah, it's a beautiful piece of leather, fits you just right. Of course, it's what's inside that jacket that really counts. You -- you want to stick around?"

Eyes locked for a long, thought-filled moment. Michael tossed his head and grinned. He dropped his Levi's and unzipped his jacket to bare his beautifully muscled chest again. "Okay, How 'bout a second round? Give ya a cut rate."

Jon sat up, frowning. "It'd have to be awfully cheap -- I spent all I could afford on that first round, and I got bills I gotta pay next week. He watched, hand on stiffening cock, while Michael stripped off his jacket and carefully hung it on a chair. And besides -- I mean, I almost shot my load when you grabbed my shoulders when I was working on you."

"And you want me to eat your cock? I don't, usually; mostly, I'm strictly trade; but -- Hell -- even though I'm really straight, not queer at all, I'll do a stud, now and then, if he's a real hot number." Michael climbed onto the bed and reached for Jon's rigid cock. "You got a big one there, nice and long and not too thick. Suck each other in a sixty-nine?"

"Hey, you're the one who's supposed to be interested in the money," Jon protested, as the hustler's hand closed around Jon's prong. "How much you asking for this round?" Jon watched his cock disappear into Michael's mouth. The muscular hustler sucked for a moment, rubbing hard with his tongue, then lifted his head.

"God, but that feels good," gasped Jon. "But I still can't afford a lot -- how much?"

"Not bad, not bad at all. If I were queer, which I ain't, understand, I could go for doing this stuff for the fun of it." Michael half-closed his dark eyes while he thought for a moment. "I said I'd make it a special price: how 'bout twenty-five for you taking me off, and seventy-five for me working on your --"

"Shit, man; I can't afford that." Jon looked down sadly at Michael's right hand, which still gripped Jon's cock.

Michael grinned. "Getting to ya?"

"Bastard." Jon took a deep breath. "You got a hungry, furry mouth almost like . . ."

"Cents, that is. Sixty-nining each other'll cost you two bits for sucking me, plus six bits for me to suck you off -- a buck even. Well?"

Jon gasped, "Just a dollar, after what you charged me for that first round?"

"Like I said, I'm strictly for money. But I was worth it, that time, wasn't I?"

"Oh, Hell yes," Jon laughed, reaching for Michael's shaft with both hands.

"Even with my roommate, Hank, it's strictly for money. You oughta meet him sometime: real cute mug, a build near as good as mine, and real blond hair he doesn't have to bleach, 'specially in the Summer. I'll tell ya 'bout how we met while you're warming me up." Michael glanced down at Jon's hands, now working on Michael's rapidly hardening prong. "Ya got a good touch there, turning me on already."

"Anyhow, I'd been cruising the strip, just ambling along and taking my time, when I spotted this stud on the make. Real good looking, like I said. Guys who're that way really go for him. And of course, he spotted me to. We didn't mess 'round with any of that Got a match?' shit; I said,Strictly for money, stud,' and he said `Sure thing,' and inside two minutes we was up in my room, and stripped, and in bed.

"We looked at each other for a sec, waiting to see who was going to do what; and then we just grabbed each other and started sucking.

"Like I said, I don't usually do a stud, but sometimes, if he's good looking enough, I do -- but always for money. Hank and me, we got to work on each other. And then, after the second or third time, we was lying there, looking each other over and catching our breath. Hank said, "I usually get a hundred," and I said "Whatcha mean, get?"

"And then it hit us: we'd been in such a fucking a hurry to take a good-looking customer to bed, we'd gone and hustled each other. We both started to get mad, and then we both got to laughing.

"Well, like me, Hank ain't queer; he's mostly trade, too. We got a bigger place -- this one -- and we moved in t'gether. Works out real good, ' cause sometimes when we haven't scored, we can do each other, just to keep in practice." Michael looked down at his own shaft, quivering stiffly in Jon's hand. "Looks like Old Fido's 'bout ready for that second round." The muscular hustler slid into position, his face just inches from Jon's cock; Jon's face just inches from Michael's. "Ready?"

"Hell yes," sighed Jon.

Michael touched his tongue to Jon's cock-tip, then pulled back or a moment. "Hey, don't get me wrong 'bout Hank and me. Like I said, we're strictly for money. Whenever we do each other, it's a cash deal: I pay him for doing me, he pays me for doing him.

With that, Michael wriggled closer and took Jon's rigid shaft between Michael's jaws.

Jon lay motionless for a moment, watching his shaft slide into Michael's mouth. Then Jon started to speak, stopped himself, and felt a grin spread across his face that slowly softened into a thoughtful smile. Next, he leaned forward, closed his lips onto Michael's throbbing prong, and began to suck.

And as Jon sucked and was sucked, as he felt himself respond, felt Michael respond too, Jon heard the rain pour down outside in hissing sheets, heard thunder rumble overhead. Inside, hungry mouths sucked on rock-hard cocks as two lusty studs urged each other toward a sperm-shooting eruption.

Strictly for money, of course.

written by falkon

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