Tyler came home at midday on Tuesday, still stoned from the night before. His father lived on the ninth floor of a prefabricated building in a social housing district on the outskirts of the city. Property management didn't take much care of these buildings; the windowpanes in the entrance area had been broken for months, graffiti covered almost every corridor wall, and the lift rattled and creaked loudly. At least they were regularly cleaned; they weren't exactly dirty, but they weren't well maintained either.
Tyler and his father, Dave, didn't care. Dave received a small social welfare payment from the local authority -- at least it was enough for this apartment. In this environment, the Scotts didn't stand out. With no regular work and no desire to fit in, they were able to live out their days here and roam the streets without fear of arrest. The police had already given up on this district.
When Tyler entered the living room, he saw the familiar scene: Dad was sitting on the sofa, high on drugs and stroking his member. Each of the men in the Scotts' family had some kind of sexual peculiarity -- a fetish, or a 'paraphilia', as the social workers and psychiatrists they saw every now and then when the police picked them up again told them. Tyler's father masturbated wherever and whenever he felt like it. He simply didn't care who was around; when he wanted to, he masturbated. This was one of the reasons why he didn't work a regular job.
"Hello, son!" Dad grinned as he massaged his hard-on. "Pass me the massage oil!2
Tyler gave his dad the massage oil.
"So, how'd it go?" Dave asked his son, opening the tube of massage oil and rubbing it onto his cock. "All good?"
"Yup," Tyler replied curtly, reaching into his pocket and tossing his dad a paper bag. "It's worth about 1,500 bucks!"
Tyler had broken into a new restaurant nearby that night with his cousin. The owners weren't from around here and didn't yet know that they'd better not leave their day's takings in the till.
"Very good!" moaned Dave... "Very good, boy! Ahhhh" - it wasn't clear to Tyler whether Dad was moaning like that because of the money or because of his hand on his pecker. Probably a bit of both.
"How much you been burnin'?" Dave asked, a little worried. Dave Scott's biggest worry was always that someone might betray him, that he might come up short.
"Not much."
Dave looked at his son: "Damn, you're sittin' on a pile, ain't ya? Lookin' ripped as hell, I swear." Dave laughed.
"We partied later, just ran off what we had. Didn't spend a dime, so money's still sittin' there!" replied Tyler, a little tired and slurring his words.
Tyler was used to his dad wanking wherever he pleased. So it was nothing out of the ordinary that his dad was sat here on the sofa, high as a kite, rubbing his hard-on while talking to him. Maybe it was the porn on TV, or the stuff he'd had that night, but Tyler was getting hard too. He got up and went into the hallway.
"Don't go gettin' caught again!" Dave gave him a call. "The shitlord's gunning for us already!"
Tyler grunted, took the keys and left. His dad knew exactly what Tyler was up to now. Tyler's thing was to jerk off downstairs in the basement. He started doing it at some point and always found it exciting -- there was always the risk of one of the neighbors coming downstairs. He imagined what might happen then, who among the neighbors might catch him and what they would do to him. Neighbors had already caught him, but, unfortunately for Tyler, they'd either called him names, called the police or complained to the building management, the "pencil pusher" or "shitlord" how they used to call the manager responsible for their building. The janitor (the "bucket boy") has caught him red-handed three times. He's reported him to the property manager on each occasion. And on each occasion the janitor and the shitlord, "the filth twins" as the Scotts called them, came to talk to Tyler and his dad. But as with the Scotts, they don't take any orders from anyone. The first time, Dave was still playing the reasonable man and promised to "talk to the boy!" He did. He told him to be more careful. The second time, Dave made it clear that he didn't really care what his son was doing down there in the basement, which really upset the janitor and the property manager. The third time, they threatened to toss the Scotts out, which made Dave and Tyler furious. The manager and the janitor yelled back, but before things got violent, they left.
But after the third time, Dave threatened his son: "Get caught again and I'll sell your ass to them! I'm not leaving this apartment!" Tyler was dead certain that his dad was serious. The old man would rather sell his son's ass than leave this apartment.
Tyler's got a hard on as soon as he got into the old elevator. The excitement grew. Maybe someone would get on during the elevator ride down and notice Tyler's hard-on in his trousers. But no one got in until the end of the ride down to the basement.
Tyler arrived down in the basement, almost a little disappointed. When he got out of the lift, he first came into a small room with three doors: one to the janitor's office, one to the boiler room and another to the actual cellar, where each tenant had a shed. In his fantasies, the janitor had already dragged Tyler into his office and fucked him several times behind this door.
Tyler went into the cellar, stood in a corner between the sheds, dropped his pants and stuck his stiff cock out into the cellar corridor. The cold air was exciting him. He imagined the Arab from the apartment below them coming by and catching Tyler like this, with his pants down and his cock stiff. He would unpack his own cock and just force Tyler to his knees in front of him to lick his hairy sack. He could picture this hairy guy in his mid-forties moaning as Tyler worked his hard cock with his mouth. Then maybe his son would join him, this macho guy with a gold chain who was only ever seen in sweatpants. He imagined this sexy Arab guy letting his sweatpants slide to the floor, turning Tyler's head towards him and fucking him hard in the mouth. While Tyler held out his mouth to the Arab's son, the Arab dad would stand behind him, spit on his hole and thrust right in with his hard cock. As he imagined this scene, Tyler started to play with the hole with his fingers, which he had moistened. Nothing could compare to the feeling of a cock in his ass, but since there was no cock, his fingers did the job. With the effects of last night's drugs still in his system, Tyler felt like everything was spinning around him, as if it was happening right then.
Then the cellar door opened. Tyler was taken aback, but then he felt a rush of arousal. Who was that? How would he react? Would he be screwed properly now? He groaned with excitement and started going at it even faster and harder. The noise caught the attention of the guest, who let out a moan. "Oh no, not again!" he said.
The janitor took a quick look around the corner. "Tyler Scott, you're just a pervert! Get dressed!"
Then the door opened again. "I've got here the..."
The second guest fell silent. "Seriously?" The pencil pusher was there too. Tyler would have come straight away if the manager hadn't grabbed his arm to stop him from wanking. "I can't believe it," he added angrily. "Hey, get your trousers up, mate, and then up the stairs!"
"HEY...". Tyler tried to break free from the manager's grip, but he wouldn't let go. "Take it easy!"
"Put your pants back on!" The property manager ignored Tyler's objections. "And then up to your father!"
"You can get your stuff together now," the janitor said, as he opened the cellar door and went to the lift. Tyler realised that he'd be wasting his time trying to resist, because the two older men were stronger than him and seemed dead set on making him pay. The janitor was probably about 50, quite stocky and used to doing physical work (and probably sport). The manager was younger, about 30, but also quite fit and strong. Tyler wasn't sure if the manager was actually a bouncer or a bodyguard. Either way, it was obvious he wasn't going to be able to compete with them.
Tyler pulled up his pants with his free hand, which seemed a bit awkward with only one arm free and the drugs in his head. With a firm grip, the manager guided him towards the elevator. Tyler was pretty pleased with the situation and he imagined the two men would take him there straight away, in a relentless and merciless way. Or they would push him into the lift, close the doors and the janitor would use his key to stop the lift somewhere between two floors. Then they would both drop their trousers and not let Tyler out of the lift until they had both cum inside him at least twice.
Unfortunately, the elevator arrived at his floor without anything like that happening. There was still a tent in his pants, and Tyler was hornier than he had been in a long time. These situations were pretty typical for the entire Scott family: they only got really horny in the most inappropriate situations.
The janitor banged on the front door: "Open up, you bum!" he shouted. Tyler grinned.
