“Don’t take it like that, Robbie. I don’t know how long it will be, but I just can’t take any chances until my wife signs the final papers. If she or her lawyer found out about you...”

Robbie, a fourteen-year-old ginger-headed boy was curled up on the bed, naked, at the half-a-star Clover Motel in the bad part of Lynwood, a bad part of east Los Angeles. Sergeant Johnnie Jackson, perhaps, under the circumstances here, not one of the LAPD’s finest officers, although he fought his addictions even if he rarely won, was standing beside the bed, in his trousers. He’d taken his uniform shirt off, showing a muscular chocolate physique to die for, which had been what had brought Robbie to this motel again for his third time with the cop. Jackson worked the Watts’ beat, being black, hunky, and rugged enough to pull it off. Lynwood was about as far off his beat he could go for a nooner and get back on the streets in Watts on time.

He had literally found Robbie under a highway bridge.

Robbie was turned away from the big, black bull. He’d just been told they’d have to cool it for a while. That figured, as Robbie, small of stature, but handsome of face and perfectly formed of body, his brassy-red hair and green eyes making him a standout, had just decided he’d like Jackson to be his one and only. He’d asked where Jackson lived, the man being separated from his wife while they went through a divorce, and Jackson had just told him he couldn’t tell him that—that they had to cut it off for a while, even though it was Jackson who was a captive to this fetish for underage boys.

Jackson sat down on the bed and leaned over and stroked Robbie’s bare hip. “Come on, Robbie. I don’t have much time. Give me your hole for one last time for a while. Let’s not waste this time.” Jackson wasn’t one for flowery expression. He went right to the issue.

“Just tell me this, Johnnie,” Robbie said, turning toward Jackson but still curled up. “No don’t do that.” But Jackson did that. Robbie’s knees were pressed into his chest, covering his genitals, but Jackson was stronger than he was—both psychologically and physically. He didn’t use the physical strength this time. He sensed it had to be a different seduction. He ran a beefy brown hand in under Robbie’s upper thigh and coaxed the leg to straighten up, upon which he glided his hand up the boy’s thigh as Robbie shuddered at his touch and laced his fingers in the boy’s balls.

“Tell me about your kids, the ones you’re so anxious not to lose all contact with.”

“Yeah, what about them?” Jackson let loose of Robbie’s balls and gently straightened the boy’s other leg, turning Robbie onto his back. Robbie didn’t fight him. They both knew Robbie wanted what Jackson had to give him. The hand enclosed the boy’s cock, and he was stroking him lightly.

“Any of them as old as me? Any boys?”

“No, all girls. Young girls, Robbie,” he lied. “None like you. There ain’t no boy as young and sweet as you. None that takes me like you, opens right up for me and makes love to my dick like I like—like I gotta have.”

He placed his hands on the boy’s inner thighs and slid them up to Robbie’s crotch and then down to his ankles. With a sigh of surrender, Robbie moved his legs apart and allowed himself to be laid completely open to the older man’s roving, gliding hands.

“You do like me, don’t you, Johnnie? You aren’t just trying to dump me.”

“I’m lost to you, kid. It’s heaven when I’m screwing you. It’ll all work out somehow.”

Jackson leaned over and kissed Robbie on the inner thighs, letting his lips and tongue brush over the tender skin as the boy trembled at the touch. Gliding his mouth up to his crotch, Jackson took Robbie’s cock in his mouth, lacing the boy’s balls through his fingers again and rolling and distending them while he gave the boy head.

No other man paid this sort attention to Robbie. Robbie hadn’t been with men much yet, but none had sucked him off. They all wanted him to suck them. But there hadn’t been any complications with the men Robbie had gone into alleys with for the money and gone down on his knees to.

Robbie moved his hands down to encase the black man’s head and ran his fingers into Jackson’s wooly black hair. “We gotta stop. I don’t want this. If you’ve got these complications, I don’t want this. It’s you who’s been after me, Johnnie. It won’t be just for a while. We need to stop. This isn’t right.”

“This is perfect,” Jackson said, pulling off the boy and standing back off the side of the bed. He dug into his pocket and took out a gold-foil Trojan Magnum packet, split the foil, and flipped the packet onto the bed.

“Not if we’ve got to cut it off,” Robbie said, looking up at the big black man, while he dropped a tube of lube on the bed beside the condom packet. “You’re just gonna go ahead and fuck me, aren’t you.”

“Yep,” Jackson said He unbuckled his belt, heavy with all of the beat cop’s equipment he had to carry, unzipped himself, and pushed his trousers and briefs down and off his legs.

“Look at it. It’s gotta be taken care of. We don’t have much time, Robbie. As you can see I want your hole bad.”

Robbie, looking up at the man’s gigantic, jet-black erection, moaned. “Not anymore, Johnnie. This isn’t right.”

“This here is right as rain, Robbie,” Jackson said, crowning himself with the condom and rubbing his shaft down with lube. “One last time for now. Let’s make this fuck great.”

Robbie moaned, but he didn’t struggle as Jackson came down over him on the motel room bed, turning the stretched-out boy on his stomach and encasing Robbie’s thighs with his knees. As big as the black cop was and as small as Robbie was, Jackson liked a tight feel. He’d spike the kid as tight as possible. Robbie raised his hands over his head, grabbing the brass headboard and whimpering, as Jackson lubed up the boy’s entrance, pushed gobs of it inside Robbie’s ass, and fingered him. “Open up, boy. Give me that luscious hole.”

He handed his long, thick cock and struck it against Robbie’s bare buttocks and rubbed it over the boy’s hole until he gauged the channel was open enough for him to get at start and Robbie was panting and groaning.

“Yes, yes. Fuck. Shit. Give it to me,” Robbie moaned.

“You want it now, don’t you, boy? It’s what’s right now, ain’t it?”

“Fuck me. Oh, shit, screw me,” Robbie whimpered and then he gasped and gave a little cry as the black cop mounted and pushed the head of the cock in. Jackson hovered over the boy, penetrating and pushing deep. When he’d begun to pump the boy’s ass, he reached up, grabbed Robbie’s wrists, and pulled them back, bowing Robbie’s supple torso back into his beefy chest. He moved into a rocking fuck, with the brass headboard of the motel bed thumping against the wall. It was music to Jackson’s ear—the reason he liked bringing the kid to this motel.

“Shit. God. Fuck. It’s so big. You’re killin’ me.”

“And you love it.”

And Robbie couldn’t say anything, because they both knew he did.

He’d miss this—for as long as it took for Shauna to sign the divorce papers with the stipulations now there—keeping it now that she was at fault for opening her legs to other men and not giving a hint that Jackson liked to fuck fourteen-year-old boys, and, especially, Robbie, who he had to admit he’d grown to love.

When Robbie and Jackson left the Clover Motel room on Long Beach Boulevard, going off in opposite directions after Jackson had gotten a last feel and kiss of the boy at the motel room door, they were both looking down and moving furtively, so they didn’t notice the venerable silver Bentley saloon car incongruously sitting across the motel parking lot or the man, when he saw them coming out of the motel room door a couple of doors down, pulling back and motioning the blond fourteen-year-old boy he himself had been fucking back into the room until the cop and the ginger-haired boy had cleared the area.

Robbie knew who he was, Cord Bennett, the hunky actor appearing in all those action films, always stripped to the waist in the films to add millions to the film’s viewing profits. Robbie was bagging groceries at the Trader Joe’s on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, so it wasn’t at all surprising to see movie stars in here buying their groceries. But he was surprised that, when he let his eyes go to the film star standing in line at the cash register he was working beside, Bennett was looking back at him and smiling. Bennett in the flesh looked older than Robbie thought he would, certainly older than he looked on screen, and Robbie would be surprised to know the man was past forty—and reaching the age where he had to put effort into being cast in the kind of movies that had made him famous and Hollywood a lot of money.

The man bought only one bag’s worth of groceries, mostly a six-pack of beer, but still, when it was bagged, he gave Robbie a smile and said, “Could you carry that to my car for me?”

“Sure,” Robbie said. That wasn’t too unusual. Robbie had heard that movie stars always had little people around them to fetch and carry for them. He was just surprised that the man smiled at him and touched his forearm lightly when he asked for car delivery. Cord Bennett knew exactly the effect he had on movie fans. Robbie was just a homeless boy bagging at Trader Joe’s off the clock for the tips when he could establish a position next to a check-out lane. No one looked at him here—well, some did, he knew he was a strikingly good-looking boy, especially with his ginger hair and green eyes—but he was just a fourteen-year-old boy, a nobody in this town. He was close to invisible.

But not to the hunky movie star, Cord Bennett apparently.

The car Bennett guided him to was a gorgeous silver vintage Bentley saloon car. This wasn’t a surprise to Robbie either. The movie stars drove something to be noticed. He went around to the trunk.

“No, thank you, you can put the bag up front,” Bennett said. “I want to drink the beer while it’s cold.”

Robbie gave the bag an uncertain look. Bennett laughed, and said, “No, I don’t plan on drinking it all myself. I’m hoping you’ll join me.”

“What?” Robbie said, still confused. Bennett was standing close in front of the boy. He was confident in himself. He knew the effect he had on people and, having seen Robbie come out of the Clover motel with a black cop who was still adjusting his pants pretty much told Bennett what Robbie would do for a man.

“When do you get off work? But you don’t really work the clock here, do you? You can leave anytime you wish.” The man was holding a hand out toward Robbie, and when he turned it over, the boy could see that the man had a wad of twenties in his palm. The boy was soon to learn there were five bills—$100. He worked for the tips, but this was more than a tip. Robbie wasn’t dumb. He knew what this was for. Bennett’s other hand reached out to snake up under the hem of the boy’s T-shirt, the palm going to Robbie’s now-trembling belly, the thumb pressing into his navel.

“This will be for a blow job. You let me fuck you, and there’d be another two hundred.”

“What. Why do you think—?”

“The Clover Motel in Lynwood. You do it for black cops. I think you’ll do it for me. I like them young and sweet—just like that cop apparently does.”

Oh.

“So, can you get off work now? Do you need and want the cash? Would you like to take a drive with me up into the hills?”

They didn’t drive far, up Canyon Drive onto Mount Hollywood, on twisty roads toward the Griffith Observatory and the Hollywood sign. Bennett pulled the Bentley off onto a fire trial road with a view out over Los Angeles, driving the big car in far enough not to be seen from the access road but not so far that it would be difficult to reverse the land boat out.

“Let’s get in back, where it’s more comfortable,” he said, as he opened the driver’s door. “Bring the beer.” When he exited the car, he pulled his shirt off. His muscular chest was his signature look. At his age he always put his best image forward. If a guy was thinking of laying down for him, a torso look would do it. Much better, unfortunately than seeing what Bennett was packing.

As they entered the backseat from opposite sides, he reached over and pulled Robbie’s T-shirt off. “There, equals, as much as a man and boy can be. Comfortable? Hand me a beer. Take one yourself.”

“I can’t really drink,” Robbie said. “I’m fourteen.”

“I guessed you were that young. You’re too young to fuck, too, but here we are and I’m going to fuck you. Have a beer.”

Robbie handed Bennett a can of cold beer, took one himself, popped the tab, and took a big swig. He’d made it, living under a bridge, these last few weeks by letting men fuck him for a few bills, but this was strange. But it also was arousing, and this was a major movie star, and, although older than he thought, the man was still a hunk. The money offered was also a lot better than any other guy had given him for the servicing.

The boy reached out and touched the legendary hard-muscle chest. Bennett laughed. “Feel all you want, kid.” Robbie did let his hand glide over the man’s pecs as they both took drags on their beer. Bennett took Robbie’s hand and moved it down his six pack. The man spent hours upon hours in the gym maintaining his signature look. He moved the hand to where Robbie’s fingers went under the waistband of his trousers.

“Unbuckle and unzip me,” Bennett said in a husky voice. Robbie did so. Taking his hand off Robbie’s, Bennett grabbed the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to lodge them under his balls. His cock popped out, hard and erect. It wasn’t as thick and long as Johnnie Jackson’s was, but few men had that on Jackson. Bennett took Robbie’s nearly empty can of beer out of his hand, rolled the car window down, tossed the can out, and said, “Get down here on your knees and service it, boy.”

Kneeling on the floor of the commodious compartment between the movie star’s spread legs, Robbie took the man’s cock in his mouth and gave him suck. Grabbing his wrists, Bennett brought the boy’s hands up to palm his pecs, and Robbie felt the man’s torso muscles up as he sucked. After a bit, Bennett leaned over Robbie’s slowly bouncing head, reached under and unbuckled and unzipped the boy’s trousers, and pulled them down to Robbie’s knees. He let his hands glide around and down the boy’s bare back to his mounds. Bennett spit on the fingers of one hand and pressed in between the boy’s butt cheeks, finding and invading his hole. Robbie jerked and moaned, but he continued working the man’s cock with his mouth.

Bennett got a finger in deep and finger fucked the boy. It wouldn’t be much of a transition to exchange finger for cock. There was no question that Robbie would let the man fuck him.

At length, Bennett reached for the boy’s waist and lifted him, brushing Robbie’s trousers and briefs off his legs. He brought the boy up into his lap, positioning Robbie’s hole on the cock head. Robbie gasped and moan was he descended on the cock into the man’s lap. They held there momentarily.

“I think you know what to do now,” Bennett murmured. Over the past few weeks that he’d been out on his own, Robbie indeed had learned what to do at this point. His knees firmly pressed into the base of the plush seat on either side of Bennett’s hips, Robbie leaned his torso back, resting his elbows on the top of the front seat backs, and began rising and falling on the man’s cock, fucking himself. Bennett encased the narrow waist of the fourteen-year-old boy and helped guide him in the fuck.