("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: Sleepers.txt (mmmmmm,rape,celeb) Authors name: "Dream Spinner" Story title : Sleepers Too ------------------------------------------------------ This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1998. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non- commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------ Sleepers Too by Dream Spinner The boy rolled his bloodshot hazel eyes in exasper- ation as the cop kicked his legs farther apart. "Look, dude," he began again in his thick, southern drawl. "I told you, boy, just keep your hands on the roof of the car and your mouth shut," a second voice with a similar Tennessee drawl replied. It was a deeper voice, the voice of a man, and a voice accustomed to authority. "Shit, if you'd just listen a moment. " "You have a big mouth, boy," the burly policeman warned, his voice straining as he tried to hold back his anger. "Don't open it again." Of the two occupants of the car, this boy had been the most vocal and the most hyper. Spotting a bulge in the boy's trouser pocket, the police officer reached inside. "Hey, what the fuck you doing, coping a feel?" the boy asked. "You some sort of fag?" Taking a cigarette box out of the boy's pocket, the officer opened it up. Inside were two small plastic packages of a white powder. "Now, what have we here?" The boy's heart sank. Of all the fucking bad luck. Why did this fucker have to happen to be on Andrew Johnson Highway at this hour, two o'clock in the fuck- ing morning? And why did he have to stop this partic- ular car, and why did he have to decide to do a search? The Deputy Sheriff began to pat him down. "Keep your fucking fag hands off me," the boy said angrily, attempting to stop the officer as he tried to get his muddled mind to focus clearly. "Remove your boots." The boy hesitated, and then slowly removed one and then the other leather boot. The deputy squatted down and looked closely. Rolling down the boy's right sock he removed a baggie containing a green leafy substance. "Maybe I had better explain who I am," the boy said, his pitch higher now in his excitement, and his slurred words betraying the fact he was not totally in control of his tongue. "Don't matter who you are boy. All I know is you are in one pile of trouble." "Hey, what the shit you doing man?" the boy ex- claimed as he felt the cuffs slip around his wrists. "Asshole, listen to me." The policeman spun the fifteen-year-old boy around and grabbed him by the front of his expensive black Italian leather jacket. Although he was five foot ten, he was only a hundred and thirty-five pounds, no match for the solidly built policeman. "No, you listen to me you little snot. You are under arrest for suspicion of possession, and for being under the influence of an illicit drug. Anything you say may and can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. . . ." The boy did not hear the rest. This could not be happening to him, not him of all people. He walked over to the police cruiser and got into the back seat. As the cruiser pulled away, he saw the Deputy Sheriff was still talking to the driver of the car, his nine- teen-year-old cousin. Why had this happened to him? The evening had begun innocently enough. He had gone out for a smoke. He had been smoking since he was eleven or twelve. His grandmother did not like him smoking. Considering she was the only one in the family who would put up with him after his parents split up and his mother decided she couldn't handle him, he did owe her at least that much not to do it in front of her. He met up with a couple of the guys at the park and then a buddy drove up and they decided to cruise for girls for a while. Then they met up with his cousin Mark and one thing lead to another and somehow he ended up at the party. It was wild, a lot of older dudes, and a lot of chicks. Of course a lot of them knew who he was and right away began to swarm around him. He hated that. Ninety-eight percent of them all wanted something, an autograph, a picture, a part in a movie, a favor, a kiss, his underwear. . . . One point nine percent of them were just in a state of shock oh wow, oh shit, guess who was at the party last night wide eyed giggles type. That left the point one percent who just wanted to know him as him, but they could never get close to him. That was his life. He had a lot of friends when he was growing up, but none that really cared about him. Now that he was a suc- cessful movie star, things were no different. He did not want to be a teen idol, but he knew he had the looks and body that made hearts throb. That was not him, but when you are fifteen and hot and horny, it is hard not to take advantage of that image sometimes, and doubly hard when it's that image that one's agents are always promoting. Besides, he liked the image of being daring, and he liked to flirt, so he didn't mind shedding his shirt and looking provo- catively into the camera. A lot of his fans didn't understand why he'd strike such sexy poses and thought it undermined his real talent, but to him, it was all part of his image, sexy and bold. He was a just-lock- him-up-and-throw-away-the-key- type dude. When you have a rep of being a bad boy, you might as well play it up when it is to your advantage, even if you'd rather be at home playing the blues on your guitar with a few good buddies. Anyway, sometime during the evening the tobacco was replaced by grass, and that was cool. He liked to smoke a joint of marijuana once in a while. When he was a kid, his mother put him on Ritalin in an attempt to control his hyperactivity. If she had put him on marijuana, it would have been a lot better, he thought with a smile. He sort of lost track of things after that, but he remembered someone offering him some coke, the white powder kind, not the rival to Pepsi stuff. Then his cousin and he decided to split. His cousin said he knew some girls. The fifteen-year-old boy was high, and horny, and figured maybe this was his night to get laid. They were just cruising along the highway when the red and blue lights began flashing. Next thing he knew the cop had the car pulled over and the two of them assuming the position. He had evidently phoned for backup as another police car arrived minutes later. The boy tried to gather his thoughts as the cruiser sped down the highway, but it was not easy. He could not remember how much grass he had smoked. They pulled up to the East Tennessee Regional Juvenile Service Center there in Knoxville. The officer behind the front desk wearily pulled out a form and began to ask the questions he asked a hundred times a day. The boy figured at least now they would realize just who he was and they could set things straight. After all, he was not just a hood from the streets. He was one of K-town's most famous citizens. When he gave his name, the officer did not even blink. "Don't that mean nothing to you?" "Should it?" "Don't you fuckin' know who I am for shitsake ya dickhead?" "Yeah, I know who you are. You're a loud mouth, glassy-eyed, smartass kid who got caught. Now, parent's names." "I don't live with my parents. My grandma is my legal guardian. I live with her." "Address?" The cop went through the routine and the boy an- swered the questions. Any objections the boy made just brought him a blank stare and the question repeated. "All right, step over here and empty your pockets." "What the fuck for?" "Boy, your foul mouth is getting the best of me. Now empty them, or I'll empty them for you." "I want a lawyer." "We aren't arresting you." "Then why the shit do I have to empty my fucking pockets?" "Until your grandmother can come get you, we have to put you somewhere, and we can't be letting you in one of our luxury suite unless you empty your pockets." "You're putting me in a cell? No fucking way! You fucking stupid cocksucking assholes don't have a fuck- ing clue who you're fucking dealing with here!" He shrugged off the restraining hand, and then threw a punch. Squirming out of his jacket he made a break for it. Two cops had bruised shins, one a bloodied nose, and the fourth was going to be walking bowlegged after the kick he'd received to his nuts, but they managed to stop him. The cop was not too gentle with him when he threw him into the holding cell. The boy managed to stay on his feet, and as the door slammed shut he let out another string of abuse at the retreating cop. He was mad and he was insulted, and he was frustrated feeling the high coming down and knowing he was not going to get laid after all. He had a bad temper at the best of times, and under those circum- stances, he just let loose, banging the cell door and using every obscenity he could think of. "You know what fucking time it is?" The voice behind him silenced him. It was not loud, and it was not angry, but it had a tone that clearly said, I'm displeased, and that is not good for you. The boy knew it was 3:15. He had noticed the time when they had taken his watch and the rest of his per- sonal belongings. He also knew that was not what the speaker was really asking. He slowly turned and looked at the boy who had spoken. The speaker was laying on the top of one of the three double bunks and looking at the boy with cold eyes that sent a shiver through him. His hair was several shades darker brown than the boy's hair, which fans had described as light brown to dirty blond, and it was long too, like his, covering his ears and over his collar. He was about five foot ten and a hundred and sixty pounds. He had to be at least 17. The most significant thing about him was the look of hardness, the look that said don't mess with this dude. "Sorry, I was just angry," the younger teen apolo- gized. "So that gives you the right to wake me up?" "No, course not. I, I just didn't know anyone else was here." "Huh, thought you were getting a private room?" "Hey, look, I said I was sorry," the teen said, his anger building up again. "He is one sorry dude," said a voice from the lower bunk. The boy swung his legs around and sat up. He looked closer to the new arrival's age. His reddish hair was shaved and darkened along the sides with the top left long and his natural color. He was wearing a T-shirt and had a blue eagle tattooed on his right biceps. "I dunno, looks like a pussy boy to me," came another voice. "Just look at those baby-smooth cheeks and nice pink lips." The new arrival turned to the second bunk and swallowed at the sight of the muscular, hairy chested black boy. He was six feet tall, at least a hundred and eighty pounds, and looked like he'd make a great football player. "Somebody mention pussy?" came a younger voice. A boy of about fourteen poked his head out from the lower bunk. "Oh yeah, sweet looking pussy boy," he said with a twinkle in his greenish-blue eyes. "I love those black leather pants." He brushed his long blond hair off his face as he swung his body out of the bed. "Look dudes, I'm sorry I woke you, all right?" "Hey," said the first boy. "We aren't sorry you did." His leer and words made it clear he had some fun in mind. The new arrival liked to have fun too, but he had a sinking feeling that what these boys considered fun was much different from what he did. "Ah, look, I'm not into that stuff, all right. This has all been a mistake. My grandmother will be here soon and..." "Awww, his grammie will be here for him soon." "Then we better get our ass while we can," commented the black boy. The boys were out of their bunks and surrounding him in seconds. "Hey, look, no." Someone was groping his ass. Another was groping his crotch. This could not be happening to him. This was a bad grade B movie. Someone began to unbutton his shirt. The guy groping his crotch had found his dick and was squeezing it through his soft leather trousers. "Fucking shit, keep your hands off me!" he snarled, pushing at them, hoping by acting the bad boy he could bluff them. After all, he was a good actor. "Rather have our dicks?" the fourteen-year-old asked, unfazed by his bluff. The boys continued to grope him. They were hard and strong and didn't budge even though the boy used all the force he could muster. They were used to being pushed around, and not by cream puffs like this one. "Hey! Fuck! Stop!" The boys didn't stop, and nobody came from behind the steel doors to rescue him. "Look, you don't know who I am." "Don't give a fuck either. Screwed lots of people whose name I never knew, male and female." "Look, you do anything to me and you'll be in big trouble. I'm not just some nobody off the street. I'm--" "Not like us, huh?" "I didn't mean that." "Fuck ya didn't." "Hey we just gonna talk or we gonna have this dude." The first boy grabbed the new arrival and planted a hot kiss on his reluctant lips. "Way to go Darryl!" "Guards! Someone! Stop! For fucksake I'm..." The boy gave him another kiss as the others grappled with him, managing to remove his shirt. Their hands caressed his smooth, soft chest, the chest he loved to flaunt before his fans. He knew he had a great chest. The photographers were always having him remove or open up his shirt to expose it. A hand was squeezing his right nipple, pinching it. Someone else's hand was caressing the other nipple, making it hard. This was not right. They were all boys. "Stop! Listen one moment!" A blow to the stomach bent him over. While he gasped for breath his trousers were yanked down, an easy feat since the cops had taken his belt. They had also taken his black leather boots. While the black boy held him up the others drew his pants off, along with one sock. He stood there in his white jockey briefs and left sock. "Hey, you know, I think I do know this dude." The boy sighed with relief. At last. "You in an add for Calvin Klein jeans or something?" "No," he said with exasperation. "I seen you in a poster I know," said the youngest. "Fuck, you're Brad Renfro!" "Right!" Now they would leave him alone. "Who is Brad Renfro?" asked the black teenager. "You know, the movie star. You were in Tom and Huck." "Yeah, that was a few years ago." "And in Sleepers," said the seventeen-year-old. "I recognize you now. My girlfriend has some of your pics in her bedroom. Sexy poses, like laying on your stomach with no shirt on and looking up with those sexy eyes, and in that black net shirt, and in those sun- glasses with your shirt off and with your hands hooked in your jeans, pushing them down. Shit, wait till she finds out I fucked Brad Renfro!" "Ah, dude, that's not funny." "Wasn't meant to be, sexy boy. You wanna pose like you're hot stuff, then you better be hot stuff. You wanna stand there with a look that says come get my body, then you shouldn't be surprised if someone comes and gets it." Brad sort of knew what he meant by that. He himself had said how Hollywood was fake and flashy. What he had done was different though. His act of being a bad ass was just that, an act. You had to do those things if you wanted to be noticed by the media, and you had to be noticed by the media if you wanted to be noticed by movie directors. The boy might only be fifteen, but he was not stupid. In real life he wasn't really that type of guy. He was much more than just a hunk of meat. He was an actor. He had a talent. "Hey dude, that movie Sleepers was about dudes get- ting raped in juvie, wasn't it?" "Yeah, by the guards," Brad replied. If he could keep them talking, get them interested in his movies or something, then maybe they would forget about this. "There were..." "Then you know what this is all about," said the fifteen-year-old, running his hand along Brad's thigh. "That was a movie, dude. Fiction," Brad replied, trying to pull away but unable to move the way the four had boxed him in. The hand was caressing the inside of his thigh, doing crazy things to his body. It was making his dickhead itch, yet his mind was revolted by the act. "Yeah, well this is real." "Guys, we better get this on before this dude makes bail." "I get his ass first," said the fourteen-year-old. "Forget it Blaze. I saw him first. I get his ass first," claimed Darryl. "Then I get his face," said Blaze. "What makes you think you get second choice, dude?" asked the fifteen-year-old. "Wanna fight me for him, Corky?" "Stop fucking wasting time," said the black boy, grabbing Brad from the back and pinning his arms. "Darryl gets first crack at his butt, then me. Blaze gets first blow, Corky the second." The boys did not argue. Blaze reached up and yanked down Brad's jockey shorts. "Take a good look Darryl. You can tell your girlfriend what her hot teen heart- throb really has between his legs." "Hey he ain't too bad hung actually." "Heartthrob and hung. Some fuckers get all the luck," commented Darryl, his voice dripping with envy. "I can't help what I am," Brad tried to explain. "I didn't ask to be a heartthrob. That's really not me. Look dudes, I can get you money, anything--" "Yeah, right. As soon as you're out of here we're history. Besides, you're making this throb," said the black boy, taking the younger boy's hand and wrapping his fingers about the black boy's swelling dick. "Now you stroke me nice and easy and when it's my turn to screw your sweet ass maybe I'll be gentle." Brad had never held another boy's dick in his hand before, and he had no intention of doing so now. As he tried to pull away, the black boy's grip tightened. He reached around and grabbed Brad by the nuts and gave them a hard squeeze. The boys laughed as Brad yelped in pain. "Don't mess with us dude or I'll yank off your precious nuts with my bare hands." He gave them another sharp squeeze for emphasis, causing Brad to cry out again with the piercing pain. "Now you stroke my cock nice like I told you." Brad did as he had been told. His white fingers contrasted sharply with the black boy's cock as he slowly began to pump his fist up and down the hard, hot flesh. The others ran their hands over his naked body and through his long, light brown hair. Brad quivered as he felt the massive, thick tube throbbing in his hand. It had to be at least eight inches, and at least six inches in circumference. He felt dirty holding another boy's cock in his hand. He felt even dirtier being fondled by the four boys. There were four pairs of hands all over him, caressing his chest, running along his back, massaging his ass cheeks, fondling his balls and cock. Darryl kissed him hotly on the mouth, this time not to silence him. The black boy was kissing his neck. Blaze had his lips applying suction to his side. The fourth boy was licking the inside of this thigh. Four pair of hands running over his body, touching him where nobody had ever touched him before, four tongues lick- ing, four mouths sucking. It was filthy and perverted and as he felt their hot saliva on his skin he shud- dered with revulsion. In a way this was what Sleepers was supposed to portray, but nothing could really portray the reality of being raped. The four boys assaulting him were soon all erect. Brad was no where near it. Throwing a couple mattresses from the bunks onto the floor, the boys dragged him down onto them. Brad knew there was nothing he could do about it. His voice was raw from calling for help, and he finally realized the guards were not going to come. They either did not hear, or more likely, they heard but did not care. They especially would not care after what he had done to them. Who knows, some might even be somewhere watching them. Throwing him down on his back, they raised his ass and Darryl got on his knees before him. Brad stared helplessly at his six-inch cock, engorged and aching for satisfaction. How was something that size going to fit up his asshole? God, suppose the kid had some diseases he thought. There was not a thing he could do about it. Darryl bent down and spat on his asshole and roughly worked the spit up it with his index finger. Brad squirmed as he felt the finger tip slip up his ass, and the others laughed and said he was such a slut he was getting hot just with a finger. They promised him a cock would be so much better. Darryl spat on his own cock, sliming up the dick head, and then he eased forward until the tip of his knob was pressing against the tender butthole. He had done unwilling dudes before, and he knew just how to do it. The others helped spread apart Brad's asscheeks until he felt like he was going to be split, and then he felt the hot, slimy cockhead press forward. He gasped and bit his lower lip as he felt the cockhead stretch apart his virgin sphincter, as he felt the teenager's hot pecker thrust forward eagerly and pene- trate his hot dank hole. He groaned and cried out with the pain and the strange feeling as he felt solid flesh ease into him for the first time in his young life. "Oh yeah, virgin boy, let's hear you cry out for it," said Darryl. "Tell me how much you like having me crack your cherry." Like? How could anyone like such pain? How could anyone like being treated like a slab of meat? "Fucker," Darryl spat, grabbing Brad's cock and giving it a brutal twist that made the young movie star scream louder than any movie scream. "Now you tell me, or you won't be able to use this thing for a month." He kept his hands on Brad's sensitive knob. "Pussy boy probably hasn't used it yet anyway," said Blaze. "Yes," Brad said quickly as he felt the hand tighten about his cockhead. "Yes, I like you up my . . . my body." "You're virgin ass feels good having my cock up it, doesn't it?" "Yes." "Say so. Say just what I said." "My . . . virgin ass feels good having your cock up it." The boys laughed as Darryl continued pushing forward until his body was pressing against Brad's butt. He then began to work his hips to and fro, easing his cock in and out of his new plaything. He closed his eyes with the pleasure of a hot ass tightly gripping his stiff cock, with the pleasure of knowing he was crack- ing a virgin cherry, and with the pleasure of knowing he was fucking the dude that his girl would do anything for just for a signed picture. Maybe he would take her his underwear he thought with a grin. The grin did not go unnoticed by Brad, although he thought it was for a far different reason. He could not believe what was happening. In Sleepers four boys were brutalized and raped by guards. Brad had read up on juvenile centers for his small role, and he cer- tainly knew such things happened, between the prisoners and the guards and between the prisoners themselves, but who would have thought such a thing would happen to him? God, how filthy he felt being used like this, being used just for another's pleasure. No wonder rape was considered such a heinous crime. He had no idea just how violated one felt until that moment. "Tell me you want to be fucked. Tell me you've been aching for a man to fuck your pussy ass, and make it real if you wanna keep your fucking nuts." "Please, I want you to fuck me. I've been aching all my life for a man to shove his cock up my pussy ass and fuck me." Brad knew how to act, and he knew how to play the game. If he cooperated, if he did what they said, it would go easier for him. Although inwardly he was sickened by what was happening, outwardly he played the promiscuous fag role they wanted him to play. Blaze was suddenly there towering over him, the fourteen-year-old sporting a five-inch boner and a grin. He drew Brad's head back and fed him his boy sausage, kneeling right over his head and aiming it down between his legs and into the teenager's mouth. Brad gagged, more because of the idea than the taste. "Fight this and my cock will rip out your voice box," warned Blaze. "Then the only movies you'll be in will be silent ones." Brad fought back the instinct to gag. He tried not to breathe. Under Blaze's instructions, he closed his lips and began to suck on the hot boycock as he bobbed his head up and down. He was not used to the position and his neck muscles ached, but the ache was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. Christ, he was sucking a boy's dick, he had a filthy piss tube in his mouth and he was sucking on it like a soda straw. He had been raised to wash his hands every time he touched his dick to take a piss, and now he had one in his mouth! Tears welled up in those narrow, sexy eyes that made teenage girls scream. A single tear trickled down over his soft, downy cheek. The dam broken, more tears followed. The four boys in the cell did not notice, or did not care. Brad might have been nauseated and humiliated by what was happening, but the two boys whose cocks were up his body were thoroughly enjoying what they were doing, and both were growing hotter and panting heavier by the second. Any sex was good, and sex with a hot, good-looking dude like this was even better. It was especially good since pussy boy was unwilling, and these boys depended on dominating others to make them feel good. Soon Darryl thrust in deeply and let his hot cock throb his boy juices up the virgin hole. He gasped and groaned with the pleasure of release, doubled by the fact he was the first to crack this cherry. Blaze knew what was happening and let loose with a load of his own, filling the gasping, sucking boy's mouth, and withdrawing his boner so his white, slimy sperm oozed out of the corners of his lips and over the boy's smooth chin. Brad wanted to die as he felt the two loads of boy cum squirting into him, one at each end. He felt filthy and perverted. Nothing could be more disgusting than what these two juvies had done to him. The two boys got up and were immediately replaced by the other two. The black boy's cock was even bigger and thicker than Darryl's, and having watched the first two boys it was already slick with pre-cum. That com- bined with the spunk already up Brad's asshole was enough lubricant for the black youth. He rammed his cock in without regard for Brad's comfort, and he paused to enjoy the feeling of this hot white boy's hot tight ass gripping his huge prod, not because he wanted Brad to get used to having his fat organ up his ass. "I want you to thank me dude. I want to hear you thanking me for plugging your pussy with my big cock." "Thank you," Brad whispered. "Louder. Like when you first arrived. And say it like you mean it dude." "Thank you!" Brad screamed, willing to do anything to get this over with. Besides, maybe the guards would hear. "Thank you for plugging my pussy with your big cock," he repeated. "Thank you for fucking my ass." He had not been praised as an up and coming actor for no reason. The black boy began to fuck him, working his cock in and out nice and slow. He wanted this white boy to know he was being fucked by a master. By this time Corky had lain down beside him. He told Brad to turn his head and go down on his cock. Brad slowly took it in his mouth, knowing he had no choice and the sooner he did it the faster it would be over. The taste of sweat and semen on the boy's unwashed dick almost made him puke. Trying desperately to ignore the assault on his taste buds, Brad slowing began to suck and work his mouth up and down the boy's filthy, hot cock. "Fucking way to go," said Blaze. "Knew ya was one hot slut pussy boy. Give the dude the taste of cock once and he can't get enough of it!" Brad did not care if that was what the boys thought of him. He knew it was not true. All he wanted was to do this and get it over with. He felt a hand on his stomach, and then sliding along to his nuts. They were small hands, Blaze's hands. They fondled his nut sack for a while, and picking up his still limp dink, they slowly drew back the foreskin. He had never been touched there by anyone, other than maybe his mother when he was a little kid taking a bath. Brad resented the boy's intrusion. That was the most private part of his body, not something that just anyone could touch, and being touched this way was not the way he had fantasized being touched. Certainly he had day- dreams about having sex with girls, and on more than one occasion he had pretended it was a girl's hand wrapped about his cock and not his own when he woke up with a morning erection. That was only natural. He was a red-blooded American boy. He knew there were plenty of girls who fantasized about having sex with him, and he was not so naive as to not know there were a few guys also. Feeling the act was disgusting, Brad had seldom jerked himself off. Besides, he had felt only losers did something like that. Although he did not find having another boy jacking his dick stimulating mentally, his cock responded to the physical stimu- lation. Brad felt it growing hard in the boy's expert fist and there was nothing he could do to stop it. That was embarrassing, getting erect because of another boy's hand, and it was disturbing too. This was a filthy act that fags engage in, so why was his body responding the way it was? Besides that, Brad knew the boy knew he was hot, and that embarrassed him even more. How many of his fans would kill to be able to touch him there. How many photographers would pay thousands of dollars for a picture of what this young juvie was fondling? The boy began to pump on his cock, drawing his skin back and forth quickly with one intent in mind. As the tight fist slid back and forth over his sensitive knob, tingles of arousal made his dickhead itch. Having a cock shoved up his ass and being forced to suck another was perverted, but having someone messing with his own pecker was the filthiest act of all. Even though that was how he felt, his body was reacting to the fourteen-year-old's pumping fist. Before long he was squirming and aching for release just like the two boys he was having sex with. The black boy was the first to cum, filling Brad's straining asshole with another load of hot boy cum. Corky was next, creaming in his mouth with a hot bitter load. He was last, his cock finally throbbing in the stranger's hand and his hot, slimy sperm shooting out and striking him on the chest and stomach. Done, the boys all sat back, breathing heavily, the room full of the odor of hot sweating balls and fresh spunk. The big heavy metal door squeaked open. "Brad Renfro," called the voice. Brad scrambled to his feet, grabbing his clothing and quickly slipping them on. "Yeah," he called. The officer came to the cell and opened it. "Com'on, your bail has been posted." "Bye Brad," called Darryl. "It was real nice having you here." "Yeah, real nice having you," called out the black boy. "Fucking right," called out Blaze. "You bet," replied Corky softly, almost lovingly. There was no way the officer could not know what the boys meant, nor miss the odors of the cell. He said nothing as Brad tucked in his shirt. Brad decided it was best he said nothing too. Mima didn't say a word on the way home. The clock on the dash said 4:00 a.m. His grandmother was angry, disappointed, and uncertain what to do about this. It was just as well she was silent. Brad did not feel like talking either. He had never felt so filthy in all his life. There were times in the past where he felt they should lock him up and throw away the key. Now he wished they would. With the filthy taste of cock and the bitter taste of cum in his mouth, the feeling of thick, creamy cum leaking out of his raw, abused hole, and his shirt and underwear sticking to his body with his own cum, he could only think of one thing... how badly he needed to have a shower. Being ten IQ points below Einstein and being a hot rising actor with a body and face that made teenage girls scream didn't mean squat when you're locked up in juvie with four bad dudes. That had been the longest forty minutes he had ever spent in his short life. A tear trickled down his cheek, and it was not an act. He had said he wanted to get into it when he was acting out his bit role in Sleepers. Now he had completed a staring role, and reality was nowhere near the fantasy at all. - - Disclaimer: Brad Renfro's brief detention in the East Tennessee juvenile detention center June 3, 1998 was reported in numerous newspapers and magazines. As of this time (July 3rd) there has been no arrest or further information. This is a total work of fiction and in no way reflects what happened in the wee hours of June 3rd, nor is it intended to make any inferences about Brad Renfro's drug habits or sexual experiences. Sleepers is the trademark of Warner Bros. Studios. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with strangers. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with strangers!! You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 6