Wolf

What’s in a name?

After all, I never found out his real one.

And neither did any of the other customers who I’d see driving their cars slowly down Macy Street, past the old war memorial where the city’s hustlers hung out every night.

There’d usually be about six or eight kids there. A mixture of types. Pretty much something for everyone. Blondes and dark haired boys. Caucasians, Latinos and the occasional black one too. Young as well as the not so young - although, if they were wise, the older boys tended to keep to the shadows on the far side of the monument.

As I say, I never knew his real name. But, along with all the other customers and boys who were regulars on Macy Street, I called him The Wolf.

Whether or not he’d been the originator of that particular name, I never found out.

But he certainly answered to it and encouraged everyone to use it - so I guess he must have been pretty cool about it.

It was, of course, a great choice of name for a guy in his profession. If you’re trying to create a sexy image for yourself, you’d better steer well clear of good, safe, wholesome names like Roger, Kevin or Michael.

Hustlers live on the edge of society. But it’s that atmosphere of danger coming from associating with them that explains their appeal to thousands of Rogers, Kevins and Michaels leading pretty humdrum lives between the office and the suburbs but simultaneously managing to operate parallel secret ones which keep the boys in money.

Yes, from that perspective “The Wolf” was a great choice of name.

It’s one that conveyed both danger and sheer animal magnetism in what - if the looks match up to it - can be an irresistible package.

The first time I saw Wolf - as the Macy Street gang usually abbreviated his name - was when he was with a group of his friends. They were all gathered together - maybe for safety or maybe for companionship - on a cold winter night. And there was Wolf, an outstandingly attractive boy standing right in the middle of the pack.

Just like a real wolf.

After I’d picked him up, negotiated a price and taken him home he just sat in silence on my couch.

It wasn’t until I’d opened a bottle of booze and told him to help himself that he began to open up a bit - but even then it was less a form of intelligible speech than a surly, animal-like growl.

Just like a real wolf.

He was pretty hard going, really, and, if it hadn’t been that he was the cutest kid I’d seen around the Street for quite a few months, I’d probably have just put a few banknotes into his hand and sent him on his way.

But, after a while, maybe the drink began to have an effect on him.

Unlike most boys, under the influence of alcohol he actually seemed to take a bit more interest in what was going on, to the extent that he gave me the nearest approximation yet to a smile and slipped off his top.

And he was still smiling broadly just a few moments later when he slipped off his pants and handed them to me.

Was I taming the wild wolf at last? 

Of course, he was a professional hustler. To Wolf, time was money and it was in his own interests to keep things moving along between us as quickly as possible.

So it wasn’t too long before he’d taken off his underwear too.

For a wolf, he had a pretty smooth body.

He did, though, have a fine, thick bush of light brown pubic hair which he was keen to let me take a look at.

I thought that Wolf, if I guessed correctly, had only been on the prowl in Macy Street for a just a few days. That meant that, in all likelihood, he wouldn’t yet have heard of one of my particular idiosyncrasies.

Some guys like to worship boys’ bodies.

Some like to beat them.

I like to recreate my childhood in them by shaving them until they are completely smooth with no body hair left at all.

In fact, you could say that I skin them - just like a wolf.

But that delight would come later.

For now, Wolf had succeeded better than he knew at arousing my interest - as well as my dick.

As a result, right now I was more interested in his firm, enticing ass.

I got him to turn right around to let me take a look.

 As I slipped an eager finger between the cheeks of Wolf’s ass and inserted the tip into his hole, I felt him tense up.

That was how I liked it.

And I also liked it - in fact I loved it! - when, within a few moments, I’d bent him over the couch and was fucking that same tight hole with hard, regular strokes.

Give Wolf his due. He hadn’t expected this sort of treatment. And although he managed to take my big dick successfully for a few minutes, soon he began to writhe all over the place, trying to push me out.

Pretty soon he was howling in pain.