Aces Win

Ace was the bomb.

Well, technically he was not a bomb. But from where we came from he was about as close to heaven as most of us were going to get.

We'd all grown up together on the sad side of town. We didn't call it the ghetto or the hood or any of those types of names. It was just there. Not much of a home but it was all we had.

When the rest of us were hanging out on street corners, getting high, Ace was studying and learning and working towards making a name for himself. I don't think any of us from the old gang were at all surprised when Ace announced he was headed to California to take college courses. What may have surprised some was Ace's chosen field of study...film.

I wasn't surprised at all. Ace was always creative and as long as I had known him he always had some type of camera in his hands. He said it was like looking out a window at forever. He was a deep thinker, our Ace.

He disappeared from our lives for a few years while he was out there. When he came back, he had a degree and a dream. He hadn't changed much from our old Ace except he had visions of what he could do with our neighborhood and our lives. He started first with short films featuring the people around the block. It wasn't some crazy thriller or espionage plot but it was interesting. He showed the completed works to a few industry insiders and got a spot at a local film festival.

It got good buzz and a few financiers decided Ace had talent. They offered to front his next work. He took the money and headed back home. With a bankroll, he could be more leisurely in the process and fine tune his efforts. And he could also afford to be a bit more generous, paying us as extras. It wasn't a hell of a lot of money but it was the gesture we appreciated. Times were tough all over and even a little cash in our pockets was better than none at all.

Life was good. Ace's films were critically accepted and popular among those that mattered. He used some of his profits to buy an abandoned warehouse downtown that he poured more money into to make it a studio. He started writing actual plots to the films and we had actual dialogue to follow but it was all good. Everything was smooth.

But not for long because after Ace's fourth and most successful film, the names in Hollywood told Ace it wasn't cool to have all his movies made in the neighborhood. And it wasn't cool to feature all his buddies in all his films. And if Ace wanted to make a real name for himself, it would be better if he started filming 'professional' films with 'professional' actors and 'professional' crew. Sadly, Ace decided to listen to them.

Needless to say, the neighborhood was not happy with Ace's decision. We had gotten used to his ready cash, his easy jobs and his funky films. It was not something any of us had planned to give up but here we were being forced back to the nothing, empty lives we lead before Ace had returned to town. There was a great deal of grumbling and talking but, in the end, there was little any of us could do.

And so Ace disappeared out of our lives once more almost as quickly as he had reappeared. He kept the studio in town but he used it very rarely. And we were left with reading about him in the entertainment magazines and papers. Then one day, he came back.

He brought his own cast and his own crew to use the studio he had built for himself in the neighborhood. There was more grumbling and a few hearty souls even sat outside the studio with signs, shouting down the workers, the extras and the brave others who dared to enter Ace's place. The crowd outside the studio tended to grow after dark and a few of the guys would bring some kind of juice. It was late one night and maybe a dozen of us where outside the studio, wasted, when Ace exited alone.

I don't know who made the first move or why. All I remember is the crowd of us surging forward, across the street, surrounding Ace, moving him along, and guiding him inside another abandoned warehouse.

Then he was naked, pushed over a wobbly table. And the drunks, myself among them, were cursing him out, speaking to him about leaving us. About how he made us rely on him then he disappeared. About how he was nothing before us. About how we were going to teach him a lesson.

Then Joe was fucking him. He was fucking Ace. He had his thick hard cock out and was pushing it into Ace's ass. It happened so fast, I thought for a minute I was imagining it. But Joe was groaning, saying stuff about Ace, about how tight he was and about how he probably likes it up the ass. Then Joe moved aside and it was Spark. Spark was taking out his cock and pushing it into Ace. Ace was grabbing hold of the edge of the table for dear life, moaning, begging Spark to stop. But Spark's big hands grabbed Ace's hips and he just started fucking him harder.

I blinked and it wasn't Spark anymore. It was Tommy. Tommy was fucking Ace. Ace was crying now, nearly screaming, as Tommy's cock moved in and out of his ass. I think I even moaned a bit myself as I rubbed my eyes, thinking I must be dreaming. Tommy finished then Junior was there. Junior's cock was pushing open Ace's ass. I couldn't believe it anymore. I didn't realize that this was the intention, the purpose for leading him here. When I was nudged and told it was my turn, I shook my head no and stepped away. I said I wasn't interested in a piece of ass and laughed to cover my discomfort.

When the guys were finished with him, we left Ace there, naked upon that table, cum pouring from his sodomized ass. I didn't look at his face. I was too embarrassed. We left quietly. And Ace never said a thing.

But I guess Ace didn't need to report the guys. He knew they would be punished eventually. You see, about six months later Ace announced in the press he was HIV positive. Since most of the guys didn't use a condom, I groaned and was thankful I didn't choose to exact revenge on Ace like the rest of the guys.