“Stand over here by this park bench. I have to go across Decatur Avenue onto the dock and meet him. It will be rough. He was quite crude and demanding in our e-mail exchanges. He’s been at sea for months. But it’s a lot of money—for both of us. And good experience for you when we do this again. It’s OK with you, isn’t it, Harry?”

I looked up into Jake’s face. “Yes, it’s OK,” I said. And it was OK. I’d give Jake anything he wanted as long as he liked me and was good to me. I hadn’t had an older man in my life ever before him. Jake was a hunk and he was good to me. It was good he gave me money for it, but I’d do whatever he wanted as long as he kept doing me.

“It was OK Saturday with that sailor from the naval base bowling alley, wasn’t it?”

“Sure, it was fine,” I answered. Not as fine as it was with Jake, but then afterward Jake was good to me. That sailor smelled of smoke and beer, but he didn’t take long and he wasn’t as big as Jake was. Afterward, with Jake, now that was the best. I’d do this for what Jake gave me. I’d do anything he wanted.

“You’ll have to show him the ID I got for you. He wants you to be fourteen.”

“I am fourteen,” I said.

“Yes, and that’s what he’s paying top dollar for.”

“Sure, fine,” I said. There wasn’t much question I was fourteen. I was short for even fourteen—and skinny—but I was starting to fill out in my chest and biceps. I worked out. I wanted people to stop saying I was almost too pretty to be a boy. My aunt who I lived with in Norfolk had sprung for a gym membership, trying to give me what I kept bugging her about on building myself up. Other than that, she pretty much left me alone. She didn’t know anything about raising kids. She just couldn’t let me go to a foster home when my parents were sent up for drug dealing.

The gym was where I’d met Jake. That’s when life had begun for me—in the sauna of the gym with Jake feeling me up and then afterward, in his car, sticking it in me, doing his pushups on top of me. That’s when I’d come alive and...

Jake was over there, on the dock, talking to a humongous black man. Was that him? Was that who Jake had been exchanging e-mails with? Was it going to be a black man? I’d never before even talked with one ... let alone been fucked by one. I’d only been fucked by a couple of other guys, guys Jake wanted me to let do me—and that just in the last couple of weeks. One was Mexican, I think. But not a black guy. The guy Jake was talking to was tall—a couple of heads taller than me—and all bulky muscle. I don’t think he was fat—just ... big. Really, really big. Scary looking.

They were walking my way and Jake was motioning me over to his car. I don’t think he wanted to be out here any longer than necessary—the three of us together here on the Norfolk Naval Station docks.

Jake sat in front, driving, and the big black guy, calling himself Terrence, was in back with me. He took up nearly the whole backseat all by himself. His hands were big—and black—and he was feeling me all over with them. I can’t say he wasn’t turning me on. I was panting and getting hard. It wasn’t far to the motel, but he was almost on top of me by the time we got there. His face was buried in my throat and his hand was between my thighs. I opened my legs for him. I might be scared but my body was telling me it was interested.

“Four months at sea without it,” he had muttered. “Other guys but not what I liked best. You’re such a sweet piece. Shit, it’s been too long.”

He made clear that he liked fourteen-year-old pretty boys best. I did have to show him the ID Jake had gotten for me. It was important to him that I was fourteen. He said he liked my long, blond hair, undoing the band and letting it fall to my shoulders, and my blue eyes. He took my hand and put it on his crotch. Shit he was big—and hard already.

I was a little scared, feeling overwhelmed. I kept looking at Jake as we stood by the motel room door as he was opening it. Jake just looked at me and smiled and nodded his head, giving me that “you’ll be fine” look, just like he’d done with the sailor from the base bowling alley on Saturday night. And it had been fine that night. That guy had hardly gotten it in me before he’d come and it was all over.

“Two hours,” Jake said, handing the black sailor the key to the room. “I’ll be around. Maybe across the street there in that Starbucks. He’s just a kid. Don’t ruin him. But first things.”

Jake put out his hand and the black sailor put a wad of bills in it. Jake turned and walked away. The sailor palmed my butt with a big, beefy hand, and pushed me into the darkened room.

He’s already exhausted me, but he wants to make his point—that he owns me for two hours, that he’s gone months without it, and he is going to get his money’s worth. He stops pumping, holds, jerks, comes deep inside me, and rolls off me, detaching himself from my fingernails I’d dug into his shoulder blades as he was doing me.

“You’re doin’ great, kid,” he mutters. “Hang in there. There’s more—lots more.”

He runs his hand into my long, blond hair—he likes the hair—pulls my face to his, and gives me a sloppy kiss. I’m too exhausted from him being so big and inside me that I just lay there, panting and whimpering, and let him take what he wants. This is more than Jake led me to believe this would be like—much more. I can’t say it doesn’t turn me on and have me dancing on the clouds, though.

He adjusts the bolster under the small of my back that has my pelvis raised and rolled up, in position for a straight shot. My hole is dilated, yawning, pulsing, already reamed to his need. Rough hands glide down my inner thighs, and I open them to him. He spreads my legs, bends them, and places my feet flat on the mattress, ready for the next assault.

“Assault” is the right word for it. He took me directly to the bed when we entered the motel room. Didn’t even turn on the lights—just the ceiling fan over the bed. Enough light filtered in from the partially open window blinds to see everything that was happening. It’s a crummy room, the mattress sags, and the headboard of the bed grates against the wall in the rhythm of his thrusts. But that gives me something to focus on rather than how big and black he is and how big he is inside me.

He had us stripped in no time and then he overpowered and ravished me. He was twice my size. He didn’t ask me if I wanted it. He knew I’d let him have what he wanted. He’d paid for it. I don’t know what Jake told him about how experienced and seasoned I was—or whether the big, black dude cared at all what I thought or could take.

Shit, I’m only fourteen. How much could I possibly know? But what I did know—what Jake kept telling me—was that some dudes wanted them young, small, and inexperienced.

Ten minutes—fifteen at tops—and I was fucked. For the first time in this crummy room, on this sagging mattress, under this revolving fan and the headboard that rhythmically hit the wall with the black bulls thrusts. It was the most difficult, painful taking, but by no means the only one. He got his money’s worth in two hours. It had taken most of the fifteen minutes for him to open me up to his gigantic erection. He’d been anxious and had come as soon as he’d gotten it buried—just as fast as the guy from the bowling alley had come. But with that guy, it was one and done. It most certainly wasn’t that with this black dude.

It was just the first time. I would lose count of how many times he’d fuck me in those two hours.

Jack had told him in the car on the way to motel from the naval station docks that I was randy for black cock. I heard him say it and I didn’t deny it, so the black guy had every reason to think I wanted it—again and again. He gave it to me again and again.

He just slammed the door behind us, pulled me over to the bed, stripped me, and laid me. Fifteen minutes tops and the first fuck was over and I was opened up to his monster cock. It was an assault. I should have been scared and shattered, I’m sure, but he did me better than Jake did. I discovered that I melted to an assault by a big, black bull.

So, this is how sailors want to make up for being at sea for months.

The hurried first time over, now he wants to take his time. I leave my legs there, as he has placed them, exposing my nakedness, my yawning hole, to him. He rearranges my arms, stretched out in a surrendered, sacrificial, fully spread open and vulnerable pose. Panting, and looking worshipful at him, I leave them there. I am fully open to his need, his desires. I understand that he wants to know that I’ve been conquered—that I am fully open and vulnerable to him—that he owns me.

“Yeah, good. Leave them there as I place them. Be fully open to me. The next time is gonna be so good. You are so sexy, so cooperative. It’s what I like about you young boys. You’re gonna be so fucked.”

I’d already been “so fucked.” I whimper for him. I am too exhausted, too cowed, too “his,” to move from whatever position he puts me in.

He kisses and licks me all over my body, like I’m candy he can’t get enough of. He’s humming and murmuring how sweet and beautiful I am. I’ve never been worshipped like this before—not even by Jake.

I know he’s going to fuck me—assault me—again—and again after that. If he wants to—if he ... no, we ... have time for it. I anguish, wanting him to want to, wanting him to take it all from me.

He stands below me, at the foot of the bed, looking down at me, smiling, surveying the mastering he’s already done, the assertion of his command and victory over me. His hand goes to my entrance, a finger penetrating me.

“Nice,” he says. “Pretty boy. You want it again,” he says.

“Yes,” I answer, not pretending that I don’t. I rock on the finger, acknowledging his newly established rights.

Do it. Do your worst. Claim your territory and master me again. I had no idea it could be this intense—this complete.

He climbs back onto the bed, on top of me—a mass of bulging dark-chocolate muscle, magnificent cock fully erect again, gigantic, throbbing. Shit, the man can recover quickly.

Heart racing, moaning, shimmering with anticipation, as dark chocolate, beefy-fingered hands glide over resilient, young flesh. Trembling as they search for and explore curves and crevices, pausing at heaving pecs en route to the root of me.