My New Home

I've hated my new life since I turned 18, being a fucking adult fucking sucks massive kaiju balls.

The foster home I'd been living in for the past 10 years was the best home I've every lived in and now I live on the fucking street. Andrea, my best friend there, got adopted right before she turned 18, which saved her from my fate on the streets of LA; one of the worst places to be homeless in America.

Especially as a homeless man, I’ve gotta always keep my wits about me, scanning the crowded sidewalk for any sign of trouble. I clutch my tattered backpack to my chest, the one piece of luggage I’d managed to salvage from the foster home before they kicked me out. My eyes dart back and forth, dodging pedestrians who rush past, faces a blur of indifference. I spot a group of rowdy teenagers closing in on me, their laughter and jeers making my gut twist with unease. I quickly scan the street for an escape route, my gaze landing on a narrow alleyway between a liquor store and a rundown diner.

I ran as fast as I could to the Blackwater Hotel, a seedy hotel in Skid Row, losing sight of the teens, and went up the elevator to my new hotel room, bought and purchased by one of my clients, who generously offered a room for me to stay in tonight while he fucked me.

I was selling my body out to rich, wealthy assholes, and tonight was no exception. The man who had rented this dingy hotel room, and my body, for the night was a portly, middle-aged guy with a balding head and a thick gold watch on his wrist. He was already waiting for me in the room, sipping on a glass of scotch and flipping through the channels on the ancient TV. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner and the muffled noise of the city outside, a constant reminder of the desperation and decay that lay just beyond the walls of this crumbling hotel.

As I walked in, the man looked up at me with a gaze that made my skin crawl.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered once I’d gotten settled and stood before him, ready for sex.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with a familiar mix of resentment and resignation. The man’s eyes seemed to gleam with anticipation, his gaze crawling over my body like a cold, clammy mist. I took a deep breath and began to mechanically strip off my clothes, the worn fabric rustling softly as I dropped each item to the floor. My eyes wandered to the clock on the nightstand, its glowing red numbers ticking away with agonizing slowness: 9:47. I had to endure this for at least a few more hours, until the man’s indulgence wore off and he stumbled out of the room, drunk and satisfied.

“Crawl to me, take off my shoes, and worship my feet,” he demanded, and since he was giving me a room over my head for tonight, I obeyed, my stomach churning with disgust as I dropped to my hands and knees. The carpet beneath me was stained and worn, the smell of stale smoke and sweat clinging to the fibers as I crawled towards him. The man’s eyes gleamed with a perverse excitement, his pupils dilating as I drew closer. I reached out to untie his shoelaces, the soft leather creaking as I pulled them loose, my fingers trembling slightly as I slid the shoes off his feet. The skin on his feet was pale and soft, the toes curled like claws as I reached out to touch them.

As I reached out to touch his feet, a shudder ran down my spine, my skin crawling in revulsion. The man’s toes curled and uncurled, the soft flesh dimpling as he leaned back into the creaky armchair. His eyes closed, and a low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his throat, the vibrations of his voice making the fine hairs on the back of my neck quiver. I recoiled, my mind shrinking away from the intimacy of the act, but my body numbly complied, forced into this bitter charade by the harsh realities of my life on the streets.

“Lick them,” he drawled, his voice like a rusty gate scraping against concrete. I felt a wave of revulsion wash over me, but my body obediently leaned forward, my tongue hesitating for a moment before making contact with the soft, damp skin of his foot. The taste was acrid and bitter, like licking a used ashtray. I gagged, my stomach roiling in protest, but I forced myself to continue, my tongue moving in slow, mechanical strokes along the curves of his foot. The man’s eyes remained closed, his face a mask of slack-jawed pleasure, as he leaned back further into the creaky armchair.

He moaned with pleasure, and played with my face and mouth, his feet flexing in my hands as he applied gentle pressure to my jaw. I could feel his toes curling and uncurling, the soft pads of his feet brushing against my skin as he writhed in his seat. His eyes remained closed, his face slack and indulgent, as he savored the sensation of my tongue on his skin. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and stale air, the only sound the creak of the armchair beneath him and the distant hum of the city outside.

My mind recoiled at the sensation, my body numb and detached as I continued to lick his feet. I could feel a wave of nausea rising up in my throat, threatening to spill over at any moment.

He unbuckled his pants, and whipped out his hard, but small cock, jerking off to completion within a few minutes of me worshipping his feet, cumming on my face.

“On the bed. Doggystyle.”

I mechanically climbed onto the creaky bed, the springs groaning in protest as I assumed the position. The man’s eyes snapped open, his gaze crawling over my body as he took in the sight of me on my hands and knees. A leer spread across his face, his lips curling up into a twisted smile. He shuffled off the armchair, his movements clumsy and lumbering, and lurched towards the bed. The air was heavy with the smell of sex and sweat as he positioned himself behind me, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His hands grasped my hips, the grip tight and bruising, as he guided himself into me.

The man’s grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my skin like talons, as he pushed himself into me with a grunt. The bed creaked and groaned beneath us, the springs protesting the weight and movement. I felt a searing pain as he forced himself deeper, my body tensing in response. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and sex, the stench of his feet still lingering on my tongue.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cool air on my face, trying to detach myself from the reality of the situation.

As he began to move, his thrusts slow and labored, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The man’s gut slapped against my buttocks with each thrust, the sound echoing through the cramped, dingy room like a sickening metronome. His labored breathing grew louder, the air thickening with the stench of his sweat and the stench of sex. I felt a droplet of his spit land on my lower back, trickling down my spine like a cold finger.

My body twitched in revulsion, but my mind remained numb, detached from the ordeal unfolding behind me. His fingers dug deeper into my hips, the pain sparking a dull awareness in my mind. I gritted my teeth, my eyes screwed shut, as he forced himself deeper.

Not by much though, his cock wasn't big enough, which was the one benefit of the whole ordeal.

The man’s thrusts grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared his climax. I could feel his grip on my hips tightening, his fingers digging into my skin like vices. The pain was intense, but I forced myself to remain still, my mind detached from the reality of the situation. The bed creaked and groaned beneath us, the springs protesting the weight and movement. With a final, powerful thrust, the man collapsed onto my back, his breath hot and heavy against my neck.

His cum pulsed into me, a warm, viscous fluid that seemed to seep into every pore of my being. The man’s body relaxed, his grip on my hips slackening as he let out a contented sigh. The sound was like a rusty gate, a low, creaking noise that grated on my eardrums. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, the sensation making my skin crawl.

As he lay there, his weight crushing me into the mattress, I could feel his heart rate slowing, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The smell of sex and sweat hung heavy in the air, a noxious cloud that made my stomach churn with nausea...