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Every society is marked by an adolescent stage. A growing-up period. A time when each young boy feels he is more daring and modern than the adults ruling the establishment the young person rebels against. Nowhere is this phenomenon more apparent than in an open society like ours.
Sandy’s story is that of a young boy growing up in his own special way. Breaking the moral code he has been taught. Flaunting his body in open rebellion. Reveling in any wanton new experience. Indeed, Sandy makes a world of his own, where hedonism becomes the standard. But the truth is Sandy is searching for meaning in his life, for love and affection, not just the pleasures of the flesh.
STREET HUSTLER-the story of a young boy’s struggle to find himself, and the experiences that carry him over the threshold into young adulthood and eventual happiness. A timely story for our restless society.
The sounds that jarred Sandy out of his dreams and thrust him into the noisy bustle of downtown San Francisco were the simultaneous slamming of a door down the hallway and the bellowing of a truck horn in the street three stories below. Grumbling, squinting, he shielded his eyes against the surprise attacks of late-afternoon sunshine that bolted under the wind-flapped shade and invaded the dusk of his hotel room. The wind was hot again today. He felt trickles of sweat crawl on his skin. But Sandy didn’t mind the heat at all. He liked it. It suited his blood.
The bedsprings creaked as he stretched. He pointed his toes, contracted his thighs and his asscheeks. He rippled his fingers down over his abdominal ridges-hard, defined, perfectly lean. He could almost understand how queers could get off on his body. He was a perfect specimen-all man, even if he was still a teenager, a runaway kid.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.