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The Boy Was Foine

By Chris Carr

 Copyright © 1998







Seeing the worn burger place reminded him of his old neighborhood. A patio served as the only eating area, so Mark ordered and retired to one of the tables to wait. As he waited he began taking in the sights. There were fine ass boyz everywhere. To bad he couldn't just take one of them home, he thought. Looking at all these cuties he remembered an old idea he used to have, back when he was broke. Before he'd become a successful businessman, he would drive around the old hood, drooling over these honeys wishing he had the money to proposition one of them. His cruising was interrupted by loud music pouring from an approaching car. Turning to look Mark's heart nearly stopped when he saw the kid jumping out the car. This boy was beyond fine, the nigga was foine!

"A'ight nigga, ketch you lata," slamming the door. Strutting up to the stand he barked,

"Yeah, lemme have a cheeseburger, fries and a coke," adding "And make the fries fresh, man. Don't be makin dat shit with day old oil!"

Mark couldn't take his eyes off of him. An attractive young person, his skin was silky smooth and tan colored, but it was hard to tell what nationality he was. He appeared to be a mix of Hispanic and Black. Drinking in his beauty, Mark drooled over this shirtless cutie. His physique was that of a man's, trapped in a boy's body. Suckable nipples sat atop a budding, boyish-round chest, dropping down to a mild six-pack. An angelic face, hardened by years of fending for himself on the streets, with cherry red lips that just begged to be kissed. Immediately Mark knew he had to have this cutie and began seeking an opportune moment to approach him. To his surprise, the teen practically created the opportunity plopping down at a table next to him with his order. As they sat munching on their burger and fries Mark looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear. Gathering his courage he candidly asked, " You wanna make some money?" The boy looked up a little dumbfounded.

"Say what?" he asked.

Undaunted, Mark continued. "I said, would you care to make some money?"

A little perturbed the teen asked, "What kind of money you talking 'bout, man?"

Take your time, Mark thought, and you might just reel this big fish in.

"Well let's start out with $100."

The kid's eyes widened as he turned to look at Mark with gathering interest.

"$100!" he said, grinning smugly around a mouth full of hamburger. "No shit?"

"Yeah, but what fo?"

"To spend the evening with me"

"Spend the evening? Doing what?"

"Making $100. But that's just my opening offer. You could stand to make that and even twice as much, depending on how well you do."

"How well I do? How well I do what?"

"What do you care, when we talking well over $200 for one night"

The kid stared at Mark, trying to comprehend this odd proposition.

"Motha fuck…," he started, startled, "You goin pay me $200 to go with you? "

"What for?"

"Don't worry about it. You ain't scared to go with me, are you?"





When Mark reached his house he parked in his huge garage and, with Poet in tow, entered his fabulous home. Viewing the house, Poet gaped in awe.

"All this is yours?"

"All this is mine"

"Damn, nigga, I guess you got it like that"

"Follow me" he told the kid.

Upon entering the foyer, Mark's 6'2", 228 pound, combination bodyguard-butler greeted them.

"Good evening Mr. Chapman" he said with a deep voice. "Take your coat?"

"Thank you Albert" Mark said.

" 'Da fuck was that?" Poet exclaimed after Albert had left.

"That's Albert. He kinda keeps everything safe around here. "

"Ya, damn straight" Poet agreed.

"Let's get settled in" Mark offered. When Albert returned Mark instructed him that he would need to make accommodations for his guest.

"Alright" Albert said and led them to the upstairs rooms.

"Albert will see to you getting situated while I tend to some other things" Mark told Poet and left them.





...when his huge butler appeared in the door, Mark looked up from his computer and asked him what the boy was doing.

"He's gawking at his accommodations "

"Good. Keep an eye on him and ask him to take a shower. Tell him there's money in it for him if he's squeaky clean."

"Alright" Albert said turning to leave.

"Oh, and Albert, if he's got the kind of feet I like tell him he gets $50 extra, and $50 more if I like his dick."



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Poet exited the bathroom's bright light into a darkened room. As he squinted trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, the lights in the bathroom begin darkening, until it was only a diffused light. Mark sat in a chair far enough into the darkened room not to be seen yet. He wore a red silk bathrobe, fresh from his own shower. The sight of the bronze Adonis standing in the bathroom door's light nearly caused him to faint. The shower had turned his curly hair into beautiful ringlets, favoring his angelic features. His gorgeous, tan, hairless body was dripping wet from the shower, and scantily clad by the red towel.

Mark took it all in, savoring his pert red nipples, his taut stomach and his lightly fleeced legs, droplets of water running down them and pooling at his feet. Albert was right. The boy's big pink-soled feet were to his liking right down to their long suckable toes...



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...his body went into autopilot. Soon, every time Mark would go down his stiff shaft, Poet found it would thrust up to meet him drawing him closer to his imminent orgasm. Then, just when he thought he was about to let loose, the man pulled off his dick and began licking down his leg. He couldn't stop watching as this freak traveled. What was this asshole doing?

Poet watched, mesmerized, as Mark lifted his foot to his mouth...   licking the soft pink sole of the boy's foot, now. Poet toes curled and wiggled thrilled to this new sensation. It should have been tickling but it was instead making him even hotter. He would have never imagined feet could be this sexual, until tonight. A surprised gasp escaping him, he watched as Mark continued his lewd foot service, lapping up his velvet soft sole, between his wide-splayed toes....


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