The Telemachus Story Archive

By Telemachus

'Black' Jack Moretti stood on the roadside in the wrong part of a US steel town. It was Friday, the sun was going down, evening was fast approaching and his big, thick dick wanted some action after a long week on the building site where he worked. Jet black curly hair and a light olive skin betrayed his Mediterranean ancestry. But the muscles of a hard nosed, bad tempered, construction worker were entirely his own. He played up to the 'Black' Jack epithet, always wearing black, today it was black cotton tee and jeans with scuffed heavy black leather boots and a black leather biker jacket that had once seen better days. He had a broad battered face in its mid thirties and an expression of permanent disgust with the world. To a passing observer he was every inch 'a bit of rough' selling his butt on the street for hard cash, but the true reason for his presence on the street was because he was a sadist, in the worst sense of the word. For Black Jack, 'action' meant luring cute, slim, young men into dark places then pounding them black and blue because only the sight of a bloody, crying, young male face would bring him to orgasm. The unlit alley behind him was perfect for the job, he had used it before, it would serve him again.

He looked again along the darkening street and sucked on a black cheroot, its red glowing tip shining in the thickening gloom. Now and then a local would hurry past, but none caught his attention. He had plenty of time, every decent leather bar in town had banned him now so there was nowhere else to go. The too-hot summer was gone, the too-cold winter was yet to arrive. He sucked on the cheroot again and waited.

After a while he started to get bored, maybe he should try another street he thought. He flicked the dead cheroot away, lit another and looked again. In the distance a tall slim young man was approaching. Trying not to be obvious Jack looked again. Oh yes! Tall and slender, long black straight hair framing a long pale clean cut face, black eyebrows and not a trace of a beard on his smooth chin. He was wearing skinny black pants and a long dark coat over a clean and shiny white shirt. Jack imagined that nice pristine shirt spattered with the guys blood and his dick stirred.

The young man continued his approach, he had a small book in his hand and he kept referring to it as he looked at the roads to either side. "A fucking tourist?" thought Jack. Just what a tourist was doing in this miserable town, or even in this miserable street, was a mystery to Jack. But he didn't care, he just wanted to see the guy battered and crying, begging for his life.

Jack lounged against the wall, watching his new-found victim approach. The alley behind him was now in full shadow. The sun was long gone, the moon had yet to appear and the streetlights were woefully inadequate, it was just the way Jack liked it.

"Y'all lost there buddy?" he murmured as the youth was about to pass him. He liked to adopt a fake southern accent when reeling in his victims, it put them off their guard.

The guy looked up from his guide-book suddenly, like he hadn't even seen Jack there. "Err, Yis pliz. I think I take bad turn somevere"

"Yur not from aroun' these parts are ya boy?" drawled Jack.

"No, I from Romania, in Europe. Pliz to meet you" he answered, looking Jack full in the face with a friendly smile. Large dark eyes, a youthful clear unblemished skin, shiny white perfect teeth, just the kind of pretty boy that Jack was looking for. This guy was in his late teens or maybe early twenties, and in the prime of his young life! Again Jack imagined - this time he saw that soft young face bruised and bloodied, whimpering with fear. His dick stirred again.

'Eurotrash!' thought Jack. Geography wasn't something he knew much about but wasn't Romania one of those ex-commie states? He would take extra pleasure in making this soft commie boy squeal.

"If ya tell me what yur lookin' fer, maybe I can help ya" Jack drawled, letting his eyes drift slowly down from the guys face, deliberately lingering as his gaze reached the nice round bulge in the crotch of the guys tight pants.

"Thank you Sir. I looking for hotel. Place where I stay" The young mans reply was slower, more measured and his eyes had also drifted down, taking in Jacks thick, solid legs and wide, muscular torso, his massive pecs clearly outlined in the tight black tee. All the product of a lifetime on construction sites. 'Good' thought Jack, the mark was clearly interested, now he just had to reel the sucker in.

"Foller me and I'll take ya someplace y'all really wanna go" drawled Jack, calmly flicking aside the half-smoked cheroot and setting off slowly down the alley affecting a cowboy's casual, swinging gait, and letting the guy get a good, long, hard, look at his big, round, meaty butt. The youth hesitated for a moment, then looked briefly right and left along the road before pocketing the guide and following.

Once Jack was deep inside the alley he turned and lazily leaned back against the wall, his thumbs thrust into the top of his black jeans, deliberately emphasising the big bulge an inch or so below. The young man was standing straight in front of him, hesitating, waiting for him to make the first move. Jack paused, then slowly reached out with his right hand, running it down the guys chest from neck to navel, rising up again to caress the thin, silky, white cloth over the guys hardening left nipple. Not an ounce of fat, and not much muscle either, the only ridges in his torso that Jack could feel were the guys ribs. This guy wasn't just slender he was downright skinny. But that was the way he liked them, and he would be no trouble when the pounding began.

"I got somethin' here y'all want, ain't that right Eurotrash?" he said as he massaged his own manhood, thick and hungry inside his straining black jeans. "Want me to pull it out fer ya?"

"Pliz, I would like that Sir" came the reply he wanted. In a smooth, well practiced move, Jack had his dick out in his hand. It was big and growing bigger with every moment that passed. "If ya put those girly-sweet lips o' yors around this pecker, it'll get real hard, real quick. That's what ya want, ain't it?" he whispered.

The young man didn't answer, he was already dropping to his knees, leaning forward, pressing his lips softly against the swollen head of Jack's dick.

"I didn't say kiss it Eurotrash, I want ya to suck on it like ya life depended on it!" he ordered harshly, still in his fake southern accent. Dominating the boy now brought his dick to its full hardness.

The young man quickly parted his lips and drew the rock-hard dick deep into his mouth. Jack could feel the guys tongue running back and forth across the head making Jack sigh with pleasure as he placed his hands on either side of the guys head, letting his fingers run through the long, smooth strands of his straight, black hair. Time to start the real action, he thought. Grabbing the guys head firmly he suddenly thrust his whole rigid dick deep into his mouth - hard! He expected the guy to start choking, gasping, struggling, begging to be released! But instead he took the full length without a murmur.

Jack started to pound his dick into the guys mouth again and again, but on the third stroke he felt a sharp pain. He pushed the guys head back violently and looked down, a small cut in the shaft of his dick was starting to ooze blood.

"You fuckin' cocksuckin' bastard, you fuckin' bit me. Now I'm going to make you wish you hadn't been fuckin' born" shouted Jack, his fake accent gone. He raised his right fist and slammed it into the side of the guys face - except that he didn't. The guy was already getting to his feet and he neatly caught the descending fist in his left hand, stopping it dead.

Jack swung his other fist, and the guy caught that too. Confused, Jack looked at his target - straight in the face. The large dark eyes were unperturbed, a gentle smile played over his lips, a small dribble of blood from Jack's punctured dick was on his chin. And that made Jack madder than hell. He strained to pull his fists out of the guys grip, to mash his face, splinter his ribs, break every bone in his skinny little body. But nothing happened. The guy's hand were locked solidly on Jack's and no amount of effort changed that. He brought his knee up and smashed it into the guys crotch - to no effect. He wanted to headbutt the guy, make his shattered nose spurt blood over that shiny, white shirt, but he was too far away, and Jack was fast running out of options.

Gasping for breath after his futile efforts, Jack looked at the guy's face again. His expression hadn't changed and Jack realised that he hadn't made a sound since Jack had attacked him. Now Jack felt something he hadn't felt in a long, long while. Fear.

The guy moved forward, his eyes locked on Jack's. Slowly, he was pushing Jack back against the wall. Jack was much bigger and stronger than this guy, at least he had thought so, but now he was just a rag-doll in his hands. The guy moved forward again, pressing his own body against Jack's, crushing him against the wall, his arms spread wide, his hands still gripping Jack's helpless fists. He looked at Jack's eyes and then started to study his face, letting his eyes wander around for a while before looking down at Jack's mouth. He bent forward and kissed him on the lips. No tongue, just a gentle but firm lip to lip contact. He tilted his head and started to lick the side of Jack's neck. His tongue was wet but strangely cold. Jack was now frozen with fear. He felt that sharp pain again, this time on his neck. Something hot and wet was there, slowly trickling down his neck. The guy was making a strange sound now, like a cat gently lapping at a bowl of rich, thick, fresh cream.

Jack was dizzy, he still felt the pain, but it was somehow ... nice. Relaxing. He wasn't frightened anymore. He wasn't feeling the need to hit the guy anymore. He wasn't feeling much of anything anymore, just a gentle euphoria, he simply wanted this moment to go on forever.

The guy released Jack's hands, they fell helplessly to his side. Jacks' legs were starting to buckle, but the guy slipped his hands inside Jack's leather jacket, gently gripping the sides of his wide torso, effortlessly holding him up against the wall. Jack's head lolled to one side as the guy continued to suck at his neck.

For Jack the world was now just a soft blur, slowly fading to nothingness.

* * *

It was sometime later that the young man finally let go. Jack slid to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A blue tinge to his face and lips, dull eyes staring blankly at nothing, his black clothing now hanging loose on his shrunken body. The young man pulled out a small, red, lace handkerchief and delicately dabbed his lips. His whole physique now seemed fuller, less thin, more healthy than it had been. And his long face was no longer pale, now it was suffused with a pleasant pink glow.

Without a second look at the dry, crumpled corpse at his feet that used to be Black Jack Moretti, the young man turned and walked back to the road. There he pulled out the small guide-book and sighed. "Now vere is zat Hotel I vunder?" he muttered to himself as he walked off into the night.

If Jack had known his geography better then he would have known that the western region of Romania has another, older name - Transylvania.