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Once More, With Feeling
This story contains sexual themes between adults and underage youth, so if that sort of thing is illegal wherever you reside, then you should stop reading.
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Chapter Seven
Mika
“Fuck yeah, kid,” Coach Gallardo grunted as I put his stiff cock in my mouth and licked it salaciously. He wasn”t bad looking — certainly not worse than the other guys I”ve had to do “favors” for over the past month. He was cut, and hairy all over. He wasn”t in immaculate shape or anything, but he had a decent build that I imagined looked better when he was younger. Now, he had a drinking and drug problem, which he seemed to keep under wraps pretty well at work. I wouldn”t have even guessed when I saw him in his SDHS-branded coaching staff outfit.
But we met a while ago, and I figured I knew Coach (which is how he told me he wanted to be called even before I knew he coached at a high school) and his private life pretty well. We had a few run-ins. One time he got so drunk he told me all about how his wife left him and took his kids, and how I was the most beautiful thing he”d seen in years, and how I should be his kid, yeah he”d raise me so good…
But I”m getting ahead of myself. See, Coach and I had a deal. And right now I really needed his help.
* * *
I really don”t want to get into the details, but I probably owe something of an explanation.
Jefe”s little operation turned out to be way different than what he made it out to be. I remembered standing in that office of his, watching the smoke rippling off his cigar, him stroking his beard meditatively as he stared down at me with eyes made of dark coals.
I was scared shitless. I thought I”d get shipped off to some South American shithole to live out the rest of my days being fucked by some rich asshole and his well-connected friends, like a fucking possession.
The only thing that kept me sane was Rafael. He was so good to me. He was better than I deserved. It”s like he knew what was up and despite it all he tried to comfort me as the anxiety gnawed away at me. It got especially bad each time they took one or two of the kids from the room, never to be seen again.
We”d curl up, as much as we could, and I cried into his chest. He would hug me and whisper words to me in Spanish. I asked him what he was saying, once, and he told me it was an old family prayer, to comfort the hearts of those who need solace.
And in the end, they took him, too.
I cried that night harder than I ever did before. More than the night I performed the amnia, when I reflected back on my life as Greg and resented its every waking moment. The night I was given that second chance. The chance that I felt I had quickly pissed away, like an ember in a dyinf fire.
As erzincan escort the heavy door shut behind his escort, I felt like my heart had rended in two. Thinking back, I think he was the first boy I ever loved. Like, love loved. I”d fallen in lust with many others, but my connection to Rafael was something more. I had no idea if it would have worked out between us, or if he even felt the same about me as I did about him. But in that moment, I felt I would never be the same again.
And truthfully, I wasn”t. Watching him get frog-marched out, last desperate glimpses back to me as I stared helplessly back into his cacao eyes, it broke me. After I cried myself out, I felt a kind of numbness wash over me.
It was like inevitability.
But then it happened. A day or two later, the sound of helicopters and sirens in the distance. One of jefe”s thugs burst into the room and quickly unchained me. He grabbed me with a thick-wristed hand and pulled me to my feet, up a flight of stairs and out toward a van waiting just outside the door.
I wasn”t the only one. They were trying to handle a bunch of other kids, from what I assumed were other buildings, because I didn”t recognize any of them. Boys and girls, my age and younger. There must have been at least 30 of us.
Dust rose from the far horizon. Angry gestures and panicked shouting followed. I assumed it was the cops.
In the confusion and chaos, I was briefly left alone.
So I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could. I looped around several buildings and a makeshift parking lot, wove around stacks of oil drums near what looked like a warehouse, and dove beneath a tarp-covered wooden fence.
Somehow, whether by luck or because of all the shit that was going down, no one saw me. I spotted a gully not far away, a section of it well covered by thick desert brush. I made a break for it, hoping my luck would keep holding out.
I heard gunfire in the distance, and ran harder.
In the end, I made it. I followed that gully through the hills for what felt like miles. The sun made its way down the sky judiciously, and the already chilly air started to get cooler. Eventually, I ended up near a highway overpass. I glanced at the signs nearby and my heart jumped for joy.
I was still in the US, still in California. It was the 8 freeway, who knows where, but I wasn”t in the middle of nowhere! I had suspected as much when I heard the airplane what felt like weeks ago. But I didn”t know for certain until just then.
I followed the freeway at a safe distance. I didn”t want to get picked up by the cops, because that would absolutely screw me over. Remember, I still had no identity, and Marco was dead and so was Greg. I could imagine the cops might want to spread my picture around — you know, young boy with seemingly no past rescued from the hands of a notorious child trafficking ring — please help, intrepid citizenry, to identify who he may belong to. Lots of people now knew my face, both in San Diego and Los Angeles, and I couldn”t risk being connected to them.
And let me tell you, there”s probably nothing that would get the attention of the cops more than a kid in a too-small powder blue shirt and short shorts walking by the side of a major highway.
* * *
I suddenly gagged as Coach Gallardo pushed his cock deeper down my throat. He shoved the back of my head closer. My eyes started to water as I tried to focus.
“Ooooh keep going, kid, just like that,” he moaned. He was sitting at his desk, door to his office closed and lights off. Everyone was out at practice, so we wouldn”t be bothered. I was underneath, between his legs, pumping his hairy dick in my boyish hands as I sucked. He groaned some more.
Like I said, Coach and I had a deal.
* * *
We had met just up the street from Thurston”s, a seedy bar near the Mexican border. I had managed to hitch a ride that far from a truck driver that didn”t ask any questions but was happy to have me give him a handjob in exchange. He was gross but I didn”t care — the numbness had kept me going. At least it wasn”t anything more than that. Though I couldn”t imagine why not — I could not have looked any less intimidating. I had managed to steal a shitty hoodie and some baggy jeans from a family”s car at a rest stop, but the oversized clothing probably made me look even smaller than I was.
I supposed Coach liked what he saw, because he walked up to me as I leaned against the side of a gas station wall, in the middle of formulating a plan on what to do next, and offered to buy me a meal at Thurston”s. I agreed because I was starving.
We sat in a booth in a corner, surrounded by loud country music, cigarette smoke, and the smell of cheap beer. No one even looked at me or even cared that I was there.
I ordered a huge burger and fries, Coach a pint of Miller Lite. He watched me as I ate greedily. Afterward, he told me he”d give me a hundred bucks if he could fuck me.
I told him to fuck off. I wasn”t ready to do that with just anyone, certainly not with some random creep that just picked me up at a gas station. The way he eyed me, I was a bit grateful that all my clothes were too big for me, because I wasn”t too sure he wouldn”t try to fight it some more if he saw what I was packing in my undies.
We settled on a BJ, the first of many, it would turn out, over several weeks.
It was a while till he offered to help me.
While hanging out at Thurston”s I learned a few things. For one, what I was doing wasn”t all that uncommon around there. But if I wanted to stick around, I”d have to be discreet about it, and I certainly couldn”t horn in on the others” business, who I was very happy to not even get to know. They could have it — I was just trying to survive.
I also found out that it was mid December. That meant that I was at Jefe”s place for about 2 months. It honestly felt like a lifetime.
Finally, while I never found out who Jefe really was, I learned that a gang got busted about 30 miles away in the middle of the desert and was a Los Ojos esat escort cell — a drug trafficking cartel from Colombia that was mainly based in Florida but was starting to expand to the west coast, and it was rumored to also dabble in human trafficking on the odd occasion.
They were pretty active in San Diego and had built a network of enforcers and informers from within several of the local street gangs.
Uh oh.
“So what”s your deal?” Coach asked me one night behind Thurston”s. He had just finished cleaning himself off from my sucking and lit a cigarette from a pack he kept in his jeans. I was downing a shitty beer to get the taste of his cum out of my mouth.
“What do you mean?”
He gestured, cigarette in hand. “You ran away from home, right?”
I shrugged and took another swig.
“Kid like you,” he continued. “The street will kill you.” He looked around the alley we were in knowingly before settling his eyes on me. “You won”t be able to keep this up.”
I didn”t need his bullshit right then, that world-weary I-know-this-shit-better-than-you. Based on what he spilled to me a few times before, his time on the street was exactly zero. I had to survive the past two weeks living out of an abandoned mechanic”s shop with a roach problem and no heating. Before that, I was a fucking captive. Like he could talk. “Yeah well, we”ll see.”
“Let me help you.” Another drag. “I”ll get you off the street. Set you up as a student at my school. Get your life back in order.”
I almost laughed. “Oh yeah? And what”s in it for you?”
* * *
I sped up, bobbing my head quickly over his shaft. Above me, he tried to stifle his moans as my tongue kept wrapping around the head of his cock.
“Ooooh goddd.”
I felt him shudder, and suddenly his cock exploded in my mouth. His gooey cum hit the back of my throat and oozed down, filled my mouth with salt and his musk.
I swallowed, like he wanted, and put on a big smile as I crawled out from under his desk.
As I stood up, he pulled my shirt up and over my head, and ran his hands down my body.
“You are so fucking perfect,” he said, still breathless from his orgasm. His dick started to stiffen again. He cupped my ass in both of his hands and squeezed hard. “Way better than any one of those prime specimens out there.” Then, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “And believe me, I”ve fucked a lot of them.”
I felt a chill run down my back but kept up the grin. I leaned in to kiss him but he shoved away quickly.
“Get that shit out of here. I”m not tasting my own cum out of your mouth like a faggot.” He slapped me on the ass, hard, and I yelped. I knew it would leave a mark.
He stood up and buckled his pants.
“Alright, get the fuck out of here,” he said. “I expect to see you here tomorrow, same time. And this time, I don”t want to be left waiting, especially not for Simms, that poor excuse for a kid.”
I felt an anger slowly coil its way up my chest but I fought it down. I needed this asshole. I put on a meek smile and rubbed absentmindedly at the place he slapped me. Then, I gathered my clothes, and left.
* * *
This concludes Chapter 7. Please tell me what you think of the story so far! Your feedback gives me the energy to keep writing. Send me a note at ail. Lots of love
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