Carolina Connections

"Uh, I know you from somewhere," DaJon said.

"From the gym. The YMCA. My name's Ryan. Ryan Bailey. Can I take you somewhere?"

Yeah, straight to bed, DaJon thought, jittery from having been set up by the john in the yellow house but not knocked off. What he said, though, was, "I'm on my way over by the university."

"I can take you there. Hop in."

Hop inside the Dodge Ram, DaJon did. It wasn't far to the university, so they didn't have much time to do more than show their mutual interest, but they got that done.

"You go to the university?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah. Part time. What do you do?--other than work out, which you get great results from, I see. You seem to be at the gym a lot."

"Investigations."

"A private dick?" He realized what he said as soon as he said it and the two exchanged little smiles. DaJon rushed on to cover the double entendre. "You look like a soldier, though."

"Yeah, I was. Green Berets." He pointed to the tattoo on his right bicep, which DaJon touched with a finger, pretending to know what a Green Beret tattoo would look like, but really just interested in having the flesh-on-flesh contact with this sexy thug. "You do more than university studying, though, don't you? Don't you run with Tony? I know all about Tony."

"Yeah, I do," DaJon responded. There it was. DaJon didn't need to introduce it. Tony was a rent-boy, a rent-boy men fucked. "I sort of live with him, but I'm looking for another place. How well do you know Tony?"

"As well as one man can know another man. You could say it's a private dick arrangement," Ryan said, turning his face briefly toward DaJon and giving him a smile. "Do you do what Tony does? Do you lay down for a man for money?"

"Yeah, I do. You interested? You sayin' you've done Tony."

"Yeah, I've done Tony. A nice lay; he's got a sweet ass. I don't pay for it, DaJon. Even with Tony I don't pay for it. Here, we're at the university. Where can I drop you off?"

"Right here is fine," DaJon said.

The truck came to a stop and DaJon opened the door. "So, maybe see you around one of these days--when I'm not on the job."

"Yeah, that would be nice," Ryan said. "I'll repeat that I don't pay for it."

"I heard you and I'm not complaining. I'll keep that in mind."

Ryan smiled. "You be careful with yourself. It can get pretty wild out there on the street."

"Yeah, it can," DaJon said, thinking of risking discovery and having to sneak out of Kendrick's house, although he knew the guy was referring to much darker possibilities than that. For a couple of seconds DaJon had thoughts of how rough and demanding this big bruiser could be--how much would DaJon take from him? How much would he want to get from him? Was he hung? DaJon suspected so from the looks he'd gotten of him in the gym, working out. He'd have to ask Tony about that--and about other preferences and kinks the guy might have. He may be worth a freebee. "Nice tats by the way and a really great body," he said as he exited the truck. No reason not to let the guy know he was interested.

He hadn't walked more than two blocks when a truck pulled up beside him and kept pace with him. He turned and looked through the passenger window. "Jack?" he said. It was a guy who came for him occasionally. He liked to do it in the back of his double cab behind abandoned warehouses, of which there were several in this area.

"Just the guy I was hoping to see out here. Got some time for me?"

"Always, Jack," DaJon said. And, in fact, he was still edgy from almost being there with Kendrick and getting cold cocked by the arrival of the man's wife.

In short order, the truck was parked at the end of a dead-end lane, behind an abandoned house. Dajon had an ankle on the top of the front passenger seat and his other foot plastered to the ceiling in the backseat of the Ford four-door truck. Jack was on top of him, between his thighs, doing pushups on him. Using the leverage of his foot, DaJon was going with the rhythm of the fuck by rocking his pelvis against the thrusts.

Jack was a hard-bodied, thick-cocked bastard. "Oh, shit, yes. Just like that. Fuck, yes. Get it, get it, getit!" DaJon growled. Jack was a good-looking stud, but as they came close to climax, DaJon's mind went to the tattooed soldier, Ryan. He closed his eyes and it was Ryan riding him.

"Oh, fuck, yes! I'm gonna come." And then he did.

* * * *

DaJon had been hitting the books nearly all day, hitting the books not being something he enjoyed, and he was all keyed up. Tony's apartment was south of the university in the Montford area just above where Interstate 74 crossed over the north side of the downtown Asheville area. There were a couple of parks in the area he could run in. He picked one called Montford Complex; pulled on just a jock, athletic shorts, and running shoes; and jogged over to the park. It was a pickup park he used sometimes and he was ever on the lookout for someone who would pay for a blow job in the bushes or a quickie behind the toilets. Thus, he was immediately tuned in to the guy in a white billowy shirt and tight black trousers, with a black cape over him, who he met up with and passed a couple of times in his running circuits.

The early thirties guy was notable not only because the attire he was wearing in the park was out of synch with going to a park--although not with going to a park to pick up a prostitute--which included a gold knob headed walking cane, but because he was mixed-race just like DaJon was. And he was gorgeous. He wasn't muscle bound like that Ryan guy who had given DaJon a ride the previous day--and who DaJon wouldn't mind riding--but he was well built. He was tall and slender and walked with a sense of command.

DaJon slowed down to a walk and the man fell into step several paces behind him. At the toilets, DaJon walked around the side of the building and to the back. It was getting dark, and the space back there was in deep shadows. If this was going to be a hookup, the black man would follow him.

He did.

The man put his hands on DaJon at the back of the building and pushed his back up against the wall. He came in for a kiss. It was a commanding and demanding kiss that nearly took DaJon's breath away. The man's body was pushing his up against the wall. He raised his left leg and hooked it on the man's hip. His right hand went to the man's basket. He was a monster down there--and he was hard. DaJon felt himself going hard as well. The kiss was extended and the man was pushing DaJon's body up and down the rough brick wall with the force of his pelvis.

They came out of the kiss and DaJon was about to go into his price talk when the man spoke first.

"My name is Ty, which you will well remember if you go with me. I am going to send you to heaven and fuck you unless you walk away now. When I leave, follow me."

He pulled away from DaJon, turned, and walked back around the side of the toilet building. DaJon hesitated, but intrigued and keyed up, he followed. The man walked through the park in the quickly falling darkness and to the large cemetery, Riverside, that adjoins Montford Complex. The pathway went through a stone wall and wound around inside the cemetery. The man, Ty Thanawat, kept on walking and DaJon followed him. The man turned at a stone mausoleum and walked to a raised grave made of marble.

He stood next to the altar grave, staring at DaJon, as the young man approached. DaJon was trembling and approached with apprehension, but he kept moving until he was standing in front of Thanawat. The Thai-American pulled a couple of pills out of his pocket and pressed them at DaJon's lips, quickly following up with a kiss. "You'll like this," he said. His hand went to DaJon's throat, massaging it until he knew DaJon had swallowed the pills.

DaJon knew he had swallowed the pills because he suddenly felt light-headed and euphoric, and all the colors of the rainbow floated in front of his face despite the light of the day now being completely gone. He collapsed in Thanawat's embrace. The man stripped off DaJon's shorts and jock and lifted and laid the young man on his back on the marble slab of the tomb.

DaJon lay there, panting slightly, enjoying the colors of the rainbow and the view of Thanawat standing next to the altar, stripping off his own clothes and then gathering his black cape around him again. DaJon felt that all was right with the world. The gorgeous black man was going to fuck him and everything was wonderful. The man's body was wonderful. His big black cock, in full erection, was beautiful. It and the man's balls were several shades darker black than the rest of his lithe, beautiful body. The man was going to put all of that inside him and the fuck would be wonderful.

Thanawat came up onto the platform and knelt between DaJon's thighs. DaJon felt the touch of the man's fingers stroking his inner thighs, coaxing them open, and DaJon spread and bent his legs for the man and set his feet on the cold marble.

"Raise your hips for me," Ty commanded, and DaJon did so. His eyes open wide and he moaned when he felt--not the cock he had expected--but the gold knob of the walking cane enter his channel and move in and out.

But he didn't care. The drugs had done their work on him. He was feeling terrific, not a care in the world, and a black man was on top of him fucking him with the gold knob of his walking stick. All fine, all good, all wonderful. Thanawat was hovering over him, coming in for a kiss, a deep, delicious kiss. DaJon opened his mouth to the man's tongue, which took full possession of him. The knob of the cane withdrew, which was replaced with something thicker, longer, more flexible, more demanding, throbbing. Thanawat was on top of him, both of them covered with the black cape in the dark of night, on top of a marble tomb, in a deserted cemetery. The cape undulated and billowed as the black man rose and fell on the small body of the rent-boy, mining him deep with a thick, long, black cock. Fucking him, fucking him, fucking him.

DaJon came to--and out of his drug-induced trance--later in the night. He was alone, still naked, lying on top of the marble tomb. Sighing and purring.

He had never had a chance to give a price list for his services. He never would with Ty Thanawat. He would meet in Montford Complex with the Thai-American twice more, take drugs from him twice more, be fucked on top of a tomb in Riverside cemetery twice more before, using the promise of drugs and sex, Ty Thanawat would recruit DaJon to sell drugs on the university campus for him.

DaJon was hooked on the sex as much as the drugs and became Ty Thanawat's slave.

* * * *

"Whoa. How old are you? Oh, it's you. Still, how old are you? DaJon, is it?"

Ryan Bailey was working the door of the O.Henry's gay nightclub in Asheville, where he often worked, when DaJon and Tony had approached the line.

"I'm twenty-two," responded DaJon, not too steady on his feet, pulling his fake ID out of his wallet but not without a struggle. "And you know me. Tony's friend. Tony here."

"Is he drunk or stoned, Tony?" Ryan asked, turning to the guy with DaJon.

"He's DaJon and he's got ID. You can let us in, can't you?" Tony said.

Ryan let them in. Later he was working bouncer duty inside the club. He saw Tony being picked up by a middle-aged guy and leaving the club. After a while he came upon DaJon slumped on a sofa with another middle-aged guy feeling him up.

"Hey, can't you see he's passed out and in no condition to say yes to that?" Ryan said to the guy with a hand inside DaJon's open fly. The guy disappeared into the strobe lights of the dance floor.

Ryan reached down and pulled DaJon a few inches off the sofa, but, his eyes slitted and his mouth blowing bubbles, DaJon responded like a rag doll and fell back on the sofa when Ryan released his hold.

He wasn't too far out of it, though, to murmur, "It's a yes to you, Tony's friend."

"That's not drunk. That's stoned," Ryan said. "OK, what are you on, DaJon?" he asked. DaJon didn't answer. His eyes opened wider. His pupils were dilated and there was a sloppy grin on his face. His eyes were sort of glazed, though. He muttered, "It's you. Fuck me, you magnificent brute. Yes, to you," and then he closed his eyes. Ryan picked him up, slung him over his shoulder, and took him to the room with cots in it where they normally deposited drunks who needed to sleep it off before they could go anywhere.

At closing time, DaJon was still half out of it. Tony hadn't returned. Ryan had no idea where to take DaJon, so he took him home, back to his apartment on Aston Street. He had two bedrooms, the master bedroom and another smaller one, in his apartment. He dumped DaJon on the bed in the second bedroom--the young man didn't seem to be in distress; just zonked--and Ryan went to his own room, took a shower, and slipped into his bed, naked, as usual. It had been a long day trying to track down a deadbeat husband during the day and pulling a security shift at O.Henry's at night, and Ryan clocked off almost immediately.

In the middle of the night, the covers were lifted off him, and DaJon, naked, slipped in beside him. Still half in dreamland, Ryan turned and molded his massive body to DaJon's much smaller one.

"I said yes to you," DaJon murmured. "I'm fine now."

They kissed and their bodies became entwined, their hands exploratory, their breathing belabored, and their cocks pressed together. They both were hard. In the dimness of the street light streaming into the third-floor window, DaJon was tracing the design of the torso tattoo on Ryan's body, first with his fingers and then with his mouth, as he worked his way down Ryan's chest and belly. Ryan grunted and moaned softly, coming increasingly awake, and ran his fingers through DaJon's hair, as DaJon gave him head.

When he was about to explode, Ryan grabbed DaJon by his upper arms, raised him up, slammed him down on the bed beside him, and rolled over on top of him.

"I don't pay for it. I told you that," he growled. "Just so we're clear on that."

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me feel it," DaJon whined. He cried out as Ryan thrust up inside him and fucked him hard. He made him feel it. He fucked him in a missionary and then he fucked him in a doggy, and, near dawn, he lay on his back and DaJon rode his cock in a cowboy. They both were good, very, very good, in their individual roles in the fuck. They fucked like long-term lovers, with abandon and as if they instinctively knew what the other liked and what each liked better.

Later, lying in a close embrace on the bed, as the room slowly became lighter and lighter, Ryan muttered, "Like I said, I don't pay for it."

"You have two bedrooms here," DaJon said.

"Yes, I do. I don't cook or do laundry for whoever is in the other room. And I don't pay for sex."

"Understood," DaJon said. "I give sex but I don't pay for rent. Also, I continue doing what I do with whoever else I do it with."

"Understood," Ryan said. "But you don't bring your johns back to here."

And that was that. Ryan had a roommate--and a loose living arrangement.

But for now, he had a second go at doggy, going up on his knees, putting DaJon under him, mounting DaJon's ass, shoving it up into him, and fucking the young man to heaven... again. He was a rent-boy, yes, but Ryan didn't pay for it. For Ryan, DaJon was a lover.

* * * *

For the first time, six months after DaJon had started distributing drugs on the college campus and at the YMCA gym for Ty Thanawat, DaJon had been told to come to Thanawat to pick up his supply rather than Thanawat meeting him in the Montford Complex.

"We're meeting there too often," Thanawat had said.

The place DaJon was told to go was a mid-rise building on College Street. A furniture store was on the ground floor. The foyer for the upper floors was on the right side as you looked at the store. A narrow lobby with a staircase beside it went back to an elevator. DaJon had been told to go up to the fifth floor, the penthouse of the building, and he did so. He arrived at an apartment with open terraces at both the front and back of the building. Ty Thanawat, holding a glass of beer and smoking a joint, met DaJon at the elevator door.

"We're back on the rear terrace," he said. He was wearing just a red silk robe. It flapped apart as he walked, and DaJon could see that Ty was naked underneath.

DaJon passed triple-locked closet doors on the way back to the rear terrace and a glass-fronted gun case that housed a not-so-small arsenal of assault guns and pistols.

We? he wondered as they walked to the back. But when they got back there, he saw that Thanawat had a nicely muscular, movie-star handsome guest. He was wearing just a blue silk robe. He too had a beer and a joint.

"This is a friend from my Bangkok days, DaJon. Name's Ted. He's a Carolinian like the rest of us. From Wilmington, out on the East Coast. I've told him you give great head. Give the man great head, DaJon."

"Just like that?" Ted asked, with a smile. "You tell a luscious piece like this to give me head, and he goes right down on his knees to me?"

"Just like that. Right, DaJon?"

"If you want me to," DaJon answered.

"Sweet," Ted said.

Thanawat was smiling. He had a couple of pills in his hand, which he handed to DaJon along with a small glass of beer. DaJon popped the pills and felt tingly, aroused, and very, very happy almost immediately. "Chug the beer and do your thing, DaJon," Thanawat said, as he went to a patio chair and sat and watched while DaJon knelt in front of the visitor, who Thanawat had known in his Thailand days as the station officer, Ted Lange. Lange sat on the side of a pool bed, flicked his robe open at the waist, and received a quite satisfying near-ejaculation blow job from the rent-boy.

"You going to let me ass fuck you too?" Ted asked DaJon.

"If Ty wants me to," DaJon answered. Both of them looked at Ty, who nodded.

"Sweet," Ted said.

Thanawat continued to watch as Lange put DaJon on his belly on the pool bed and put an arm under the young man's waist to raise his buttocks. Without further ceremony, he shoved his cock up DaJon's channel and fucked him to completion.

DaJon lay there, on the pool bed, burbling and enjoying all of the colors he could see in the sky, while the two other men took their beers and joints to the railing overlooking the back alley and the backs of the buildings on the adjacent street and discussed business.

That done, they came back to the pool bed. Thanawat lifted DaJon off the bed long enough for Lange to lay down on it on his back and for DaJon to be lowered on top of Lange, DaJon's back pressed into Lange's chest. Thanawat adjusted DaJon's legs so that they were spread and bent, his feet pressed into the side edges of the pool bed. Thanawat helped Lange get his cock up into DaJon's channel, and Thanawat got through to DaJon that he was supposed to use the leverage of feet to raise and lower himself on Lange's cock and fuck himself, which he did. Thanawat watched that for a while and then crouched over the pool bed over Lange's legs, grasped DaJon's ankles, raised and spread the young man's legs, and rolled DaJon's pelvis up without dislodging Lange's cock. He worked his own cock inside DaJon's hole above that of Lange's, and the two men double fucked DaJon as the young man moaned and groaned and blew bubbles and took solace in the colors in the sky.

Thanawat and Lange took DaJon to Ty's bed that night and tag teamed him, banging the shit out of him. The next morning Thanawat unlocked one of his closets, doled out a supply of drugs for DaJon to sell, and sent him on his way.

Ryan Bailey didn't see DaJon until he came home from work the next day. The young man was still stumbling around in the apartment and looking confused. Ryan didn't ask him where he'd been the previous night or why he was walking so gingerly. He just fed him and pampered him a bit and was sure not to touch him sexually. Ryan assumed the young man had had a particularly rough sexual encounter and he could guess that drugs were involved. He'd been told to keep his distance on these matters, so he did. If he'd had any idea the DaJon was pushing the drugs too, he would have intervened somehow, but he had no inkling that was happening.