“There’s one. Who’s up?”

Fourteen-year-old Kenny stepped out from the wedge of the shelter of the underpass where Jack’s Run passed under Route 7 outside of Purcellville in the northern Virginia hunt county and looked down to the nearby Franklin Park Drive where a white double-cab truck with a logo on the door was idling at the side of the road and flashing its light. “I think I recognize the guy. I’ll go,” he said.

Ned, the oldest of the homeless guys who used the underpass for shelter and who kept track of the younger guys who earned some money by hooking up with men who knew about the Franklin Park Drive pickup spot nodded and went back under the underpass to where it was warmer.

Half-way down the hill toward the road, Kenny realized that he didn’t recognize the truck at all—that it had a logo on the door for the Lewis Gardening Service, when the guy Kenny knew worked as an electrician. But the man’s muscular, tattooed arm was leaning out of the cab and he was beckoning Kenny forward, so the boy went to the cab window.

The man, not more than in his late thirties, body-builder muscular, balding but not bad looking, had two hundred-dollar bills in his hand. That was quite a bit more than Kenny usually got to do what he did for men. He reached out and touched the bills but the man held them and wouldn’t release them. Kenny was trembling, but it was mainly from the cold. It was mid-November, most of the leaves had fallen to the ground, and the colder weather was finally deciding to set in. Kenny was new to this, but something in the back of his mind said he’d need to find some sort of arrangement that got him inside for the winter. He just didn’t know how to go about that.

“This is for the night,” the man said.

That would be getting in from out of the cold for at least one night, and Kenny had no trouble saying, “I could do that.”

“Before I say what I want?”

“As long as it’s someplace warm.”

“I could want something rough.”

“Yes, I guess you could—for those two bills.”

The man smiled. It was a nice smile. He had a better face when he smiled. He looked a little rough otherwise. The kid must be new, he thought. Two hundred was cheap for what was being hinted, although he wasn’t in for rough. He just wanted to be taken care of by someone looking like what he usually got. “I’d feed you and, if you want to bring your things, we can get them washed.”

“Thanks. I’ll go get my kit.”

“Before you go, how old are you? I was told this was where to come for teenaged boys.”

“I’m fourteen,” Kenny said. It was good the guy had given him a lead on that—that he wanted them young. Otherwise, Kenny would have tried to age himself up. But he was what he looked—fourteen, small, willowy, smooth and hairless “down there,” and just on the cusp of manhood. He wouldn’t have been able to fool the guy for long if the guy didn’t want someone that young. When you’re naked and look your age, it’s hard to hide what hadn’t changed yet.

“Sweet,” the man said.

All that Kenny had taken from home was in the duffel bag he returned with after telling Ned what logo was on the truck and what the man looked like and said he’d be gone overnight. Ned wasn’t nosey, but he always liked to know something to tell the cops if something happened to one of the boys being rented out. What they were doing out here under the highway pass was risky. It didn’t matter if this was one of the richest gentleman farmer counties in the region. Homeless was homeless. And boys were boys. And this was where men from the area came to get themselves a boy.

When Kenny climbed into the truck, the man handed him the $200 and his hand immediately dropped to grasp the boy’s leg above the knee. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Kenny answered.

“Good, because I don’t want no cryin’ or surprised boys on my hands. You ain’t done it too often, though, I hope. How long you been out here under the road.”

“Just a couple of weeks.”

“Good enough. My name’s Bob. We’ll go get you cleaned up and your clothes goin’ in the washer and then we’ll get something to eat before we get down to business. A bit of a drive. To Winchester. Don’t want to be seen with you here in Purcellville.”

“Yes, I can understand that,” Kenny answered. “My name’s Danny.”

“Sure it is,” the guy, whose name wasn’t really Bob, said, as he moved the truck onto the road. Their immediate destination was Dodson’s Mobile Home Park south of Purcellville and a doublewide trailer. And they didn’t wait until after dinner to get down to business. As they walked from the truck to the door of the trailer, Bob palmed one of Kenny’s butt cheeks and Kenny didn’t pull away.

“You’re a real honey and you got a nice ass. Maybe we’ll find something to do before going to dinner.”

“It’s your call,” Kenny said.

“Yes, it is.” Closing the mobile home door behind them, Bob said, “Strip down and give me your clothes and anything from your bag there needing washed. No, do it here while I watch. All of it off and no clutching your jewels with your hands. I want to see what I’m buying.”

Kenny took his time stripping down and Bob took his time looking at the boy getting naked. He was breathing hard and rubbing his crotch with a hand while he watched, and Kenny knew that wouldn’t be putting anything off until later.

“Go on in to the bathroom over there and get yourself a shower. I’ll put these clothes in the washer. I have some duds you can wear until your stuff comes out of the dryer. Don’t close the door. The duds come later.”

The reason Bob didn’t want the door to be closed became obvious when Kenny got into the shower. Bob appeared in the bathroom, naked, muscled up and tattooed, and with a thick erection, which he covered with a condom, while Kenny soaped up in the shower and watched him. Bob was bigger than Kenny was used to—and it was true that he hadn’t gone with a lot men since he broken away from home and was trying it on his own—but for $200, he’d take what he had to take. And he wasn’t moving into this life because he didn’t like men fucking him.

The guy who’d spiked him first was a good ten years older than he was. Since then, while operating from the underpass, the men had been even older. They were men who knew what they wanted and took full control. Kenny felt better when he could feel like they were taking it from him. The first guy certainly took it from him—plucked his male cheery in the middle of the night with a hand over his mouth and just turned him over and did it again.

Bob entered the shower and turned Kenny toward the tiled wall. Kenny didn’t resist anything. He let the man put him into position. Bob grasped Kenny’s wrists and raised the boy’s arms, pressing his wrists high onto the tiles. He didn’t have to tell Kenny to leave them there. The boy knew what he wanted. He pressed his cheek to the tiles and stared into the bathroom.

“You like to be controlled, don’t you?” the man said in a hoarse voice, full of lust.

“Yes. Do me, Daddy,” Kenny answered.

Bob palmed the boy’s belly, coaxing Kenny’s hips and legs back off the wall and then the man dropped to his knees and with one hand on the boy’s belly and the other grasping and stroking Kenny’s cock, the man pressed his face in the boy’s crack and began tonguing his hole open. Kenny gave him the sighs and moans he knew the man wanted to hear. He didn’t have to act, though. He was trembling and ready for it—wanting it.

“Yes, yes. Do it. Fuck me,” he whispered.

Laughing, Bob rose, hovered over the boy’s back, mounted him from the rear, putting his mushroom cap in position, and held the boy close with one hand spread on his belly and the other pressed into his chest. Kenny jerked and panted hard as the thick cock possessed and stretched his channel, and then Kenny dropped a hand to his own cock and he stroked himself off while the man rode his ass in long, deep strokes.

“Nice. Tight. Sweet ass,” Bob murmured as he stroked.

“Shit you’re big, Daddy,” Kenny moaned.

“These almost fit. These aren’t yours, are they?” Bob was a big muscular man. Kenny most certainly wasn’t.

“No,” Bob answered as Kenny came out of the second bedroom of the doublewide dressed in jeans and a Henley shirt that were just a bit too large for him—but would have been the right size for most fourteen-year-old boys. “Those belong to my stepson. He’s fourteen. Just like you.”

“Just like me?” Kenny repeated, wondering in what other ways the man’s stepson would be like him.

“Yeah, you’re the spittin’ image of him. My wife and he are off visiting family in Maryland this weekend. They’re taking a long weekend, so won’t be home for a couple of days.”

“By home, do you mean here, in this trailer?” Kenny asked. There wasn’t anything here that looked feminine and nothing that looked like another boy was around, other than the clothes. The second bedroom was sterile looking. It didn’t look like a boy lived there.

“No, they don’t live here with me.”

“But you have your stepson’s clothes in the second bedroom.”

“He comes to me.” Kenny caught that the man didn’t say his stepson visited him. He said the boy came to him here. Before he could probe more, though, Bob changed the subject. “How does Denny’s in Winchester for dinner sound?”

“Fine,” Kenny said, getting the signal that he wasn’t to ask further about Bob’s family.

Winchester was more than a half-hour drive away, though, and the question of family was just hanging there in the air between them, until Bob asked. “Your family. You’re just fourteen. And you’re living under that underpass at Jack’s Run. Doesn’t your family—?”

“My mom’s in Europe on business. She left me with her boyfriend, and I didn’t want to...”

He didn’t take that further and it wasn’t, in fact, fully true. Both his mom and her boyfriend had gone to Europe. That much was true. They’d thought Kenny was old enough to leave alone, but they obviously were wrong. They surely were back by now, but Kenny hadn’t noticed anyone looking for him. That said, yes, he’d taken off because the boyfriend was messing with him as much as with Kenny’s mother. The man who popped his male cherry was, of course, the boyfriend. Kenny didn’t care for himself. The guy was a hunk and Kenny was ripe for plucking. But it just wasn’t right with the guy spiking his mother too.

“OK, I understand,” Bob said, and he’d heard enough to figure it out. “Still, I hope you have plans to get inside when it really gets cold.”

“Sure, I do,” Kenny said. He planned to do that; he just didn’t know how he was going to get it done.

Somehow the conversation colored their relationship. because when they came back to the trailer, Bob wasn’t quick about messing with the boy. It was just a little late to pretend that he hadn’t already done so, of course. He made a big deal about getting Kenny’s clothes out of the dryer and getting them folded and then asking if there was anything Kenny wanted to watch on TV.

Out of the blue, he said, “You can sleep in the other bedroom tonight if you want. I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go tomorrow before I go to work. Timing will depend on where you want to go.”

Then they settled in on a sofa to watch a pro football game on TV. Kenny finally got that he was going to have to be the one to make the moves if they were going to fuck again. He didn’t want to shortchange the man just because some sort of guilt had set in about humping a guy the same age as a stepson he might also be humping. At halftime, Kenny sank down on the carpet between Bob’s thighs, unzipped the man, pulled out his cock, and gave him head. Bob lay back into the sofa, running his fingers through Kenny’s hair, and moaning his pleasure.

They made out on the sofa, slowly shucking their clothes, and by the start of the fourth quarter of the football game on the TV, they were both naked and humping. Kenny was sitting in Bob’s lap, facing him and rising and falling on the man’s cock, both of them panting and grunting, as Bob clutched Kenny’s waist and helped in the rhythm of the fuck.

They were done and in close embrace when Bob’s cell phone rang and he answered it. After expressing an irritated, “Shit” and “Fuck,” he rang off.

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked.

“My crew is short tomorrow,” Bob said. “I supervise a gardening services crew. This time of year we’re up to our necks in leaf removal for regular customers. I never can keep a full crew going to keep up with the demand. We’re one too short tomorrow to keep up with the schedule.”

“You just use those hand-held leaf blowers?”

“There’s more to it than that, but nothing more difficult to learn. And the pay is good for seasonal work like that.” There was a pause, while Kenny gave the man an “are you going to ask?” look. Bob did. “You’ve ever used a leaf blower before?”

“Sure, lots of times. We have a big yard.” He didn’t want to admit that his mom actually had one of the palatial estates that dotted the rolling Virginia hills in this area and that she was stingy enough that Kenny did a lot of yardwork. So did her hunk boyfriend, and as far as Kenny knew, that’s what she kept the boyfriend around for—that he and he was all sex.

“It’s good money. You want to fill in on the crew tomorrow? You could stay with me another night.”

“Sure. Why not? Maybe we should get to bed, though, if you have a full day of work for us tomorrow removing leaves.”

“It’s too early for me to go to sleep,” Bob said.

“Who said anything about going to sleep? I just said maybe we should go to bed. And I don’t want to use your second bedroom.”

Prospects were looking up for Kenny, and he wanted Bob to continue to like him, so, when they got to the bedroom, Kenny gave the man the best servicing he knew to give. They were standing and kissing at the foot of the bed and Kenny gently pressed on Bob’s chest. The man understood what Kenny wanted and he sat down on the bed. As he was going down, Kenny sank to his knees, grasped Bob’s knees, and spread the man’s legs.

Bob groaned as Kenny unzipped and released him and took the man’s cock in his mouth. After a few moments of running his fingers into the boy’s hair and guiding his head as it bobbed up and down on his shaft, Bob groaned and reclined back on the bed. Kenny stripped off the man’s trousers and the jeans he was wearing, moved up to saddling himself on Bob’s lap, and slowly descended his channel on the shaft, making a cowboy ride the first of three events on the bed in the night.

It wasn’t lost on Kenny that the man called him “Robbie” at one lift-off point during the night.

“This is Kenny. He’s filling in for Jenks, who couldn’t make it today.”

Bob was introducing Kenny to the three other guys gathered at a two-acre plot in the exclusive Highland Farms subdivision north of Purcellville. They had called Bob Chad, which Kenny, prepared to understand Bob wasn’t really the man’s name, heard but let go by, getting a grateful look from the man now to be known as Chad. Chad, in turn, covered up for Kenny.

“How old is he,” one of the three guys, all of whom were fit Hispanics, asked. At fourteen, Kenny couldn’t legally be doing this for a gardening service.

“Old enough, just like you are legal enough to be working in the States, Jose,” Chad shot back. And that ended that. “You be nice to Kenny and maybe he’ll be nice to you,” Chad continued, giving the crew meaningful looks. The crew, in turn, gave Kenny meaningful looks, conveying the idea that they all knew which way Chad swung and they were happy to swing in that direction too. And they’d be happy to swing Kenny if he was a special friend of Chad’s.

“Now, let’s get to work. This guy’s lot should take us about three hours to clear and we can go on to another job this afternoon. This guy owns some sort of tech company in the D.C. area and he gave really good tips last year, so do a good job. Kenny, why don’t you work up near the house?”