I Can’t Sell a Sorry

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Summertime in the tourist town of Speculator, New York back in the early 70’s.


The door was locked and the lights had just gone out in the little convenience store on Main Street in Speculator, New York. It had been a lousy day business-wise, what with the steady rain that had fallen all day in the sleepy tourist town, and now owner Red O’Brien had another headache to deal with.

That headache was yet another in a series of shoplifters that the aging proprietor had caught in the last week. Two other days this week he had caught one of these little punks trying to swipe something, and the trend was getting on the 63 year old store owner’s nerves.

He had ways of dealing with these thieves. Two distinct ways, and as Red walked to the back storeroom where he had put this last punk he wondered which of these methods he would use.

The easy solution was the way he dealt with minors. For those under 18, he dealt with the parents. They were usually spoiled little brats who came up to this mountain area, and after Red had figured out that calling the police was a waste of time, he had devised another idea.

After having the kid call their folks and having them show up at the store, Red gave the parents two options. The one was to call the police and have them deal with the embarrassment of having their kid’s name show up in the local rag, and the other was for them to settle up with him directly.

Some would call it extortion, Red knew, but most of the parents figured that throwing the owner some money was worth it. Red charged by what the parents drove up in. A modest car was worth about $20 or so, and the nicer the car the more the settlement.

The family that pulled up in the BMW to pick up their foul mouthed little brat? Well, they didn’t mind coughing up a hundred or so. Red figured that they were used to getting the kid out of trouble, and would probably spend a lot of time and money doing that many more times in the foreseeable future.

For the older shoplifters, Red had another policy. If they were people down on their luck and were obviously stealing to survive, Red would just tell them to leave and not come back. One time a guy had stolen a couple of cans of tuna fish, and after Red caught him the guy broke down in tears.

“I don’t even have a can opener,” the poor soul told Red, explaining that he was a homeless veteran who was wandering across the state in search of something better than where he had been.

Red had been so moved he made the guy sandwiches and a can of soda to take back to the woods with him, and while he supposed that the guy could have been a con artist he had been convincing enough for the jaded store owner to let him off.

“Just don’t come back here,” Red had told the guy. “And good luck.”

The punk in the back room though? These kids aggravated him. The kid the other day had stolen baseball cards, but when it turned out that he wasn’t a kid but some skateboarding 18 year old up here from Long Island, Red dished out his own brand of justice, and while he wasn’t all that proud of himself afterward it was still good.

Now he had to deal with this kid.


“Sit up straight!” Red said as he entered the sparsely furnished office and saw the kid practically laying on his desk.

“Did you call the cops?” the kid asked nervously.

“Not yet. I know you aren’t a local. You up here with your parents?”


“Yes sir is a better response,” Red snapped. “Where you from?”

“Utica,” the kid said, and then after a brief pause added, “Sir.”

“What grade are you in?”

“Grade? I’m not in any grade.”

“You a dropout?”

“No sir. I just graduated high school and my folks – we used to come up here a lot – and they wanted to have one last camping trip before I go into the Navy next winter.”

“How old are you?” Red snapped, and when the kid said he was 18 he sneered.

“You have ID on you?”

“Yes sir,” the lad said, and after fumbling with his wallet he extricated a draft card and drivers license which he gave to Red with a shaky hand.

“Wally Sutton,” Red said while reading. “Wally Sutton is 18 and decided to come to my store and steal. Next time stay in fucking Utica.”

“Sorry,” Wally mumbled.

“You sure are,” Red growled, looking at the little twerp who was going to be sent off to protect the country, adding in a sarcastic voice, “Wally.”

“My friends call me Whitey,” the lad informed the owner.

“My friends don’t steal from me, so right now you’re Wally,” Red said coldly while looking down at the thief.

This Wally wasn’t a hippie, because although he had long strawberry blonde hair he seemed well-groomed otherwise. The little twerp was skinny and probably not more than 5’7″, and looked even more innocent that the kid from a couple of days bahis firmaları ago, Ethan something or other.

“I’ll leave it up to you,” Red said as he tossed the identification onto the desk, right next to the half dozen candy bars that Wally had tried to steal. “Cop or Pop.”


“It means that you have the option of what happens next,” Red informed Wally. “Option one is that I call the police and let them deal with it. It will probably mean an overnight stay in the jail…”

“No,” Wally said, shaking his head so hard that his hair was flying around wildly.

“You don’t even know what the other option is.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wally replied. “I can’t go to jail. It would kill my mother and then my father would kill me.”

“Funny you should mentioned the old man, because that’s the Pop option,” Red explained. You don’t like the Cop option, but the Pop option is where I drive your ass to your parents. Where are you camping? Moffett Beach?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well then why don’t we take a drive over and you can tell your parents what you did?”

“No, that’s not good either,” Wally whined. “I’m really sorry. Don’t you believe me?”

“I can’t sell a sorry, kid!” Red said as he slammed his hand down on the desk. “You know how many candy bars I have to sell just to make up for what you tried to steal?”

“I’ll pay for them,” Wally said as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar and some change. “Here. Take it all.”

“You mean you had money and still stole this stuff?” Red roared, his neck burning with anger.

“Don’t hit me,” Wally sobbed while cringing away from the desk.

“I’m not going to hit you,” Red said when he saw how terrified the kid seemed. “Let me think about what we’re going to do here.”


“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Red announced. “What else of mine do you have on you?”

“Nothing. I swear!” Wally insisted.

“You’re a thief, so why couldn’t you be a liar as well? Stand up and empty your pockets.”

“Yes sir,” Wally said as he jumped to his feet and pulled everything out of his jeans shorts, even leaving the pockets hanging out to prove it.

“Okay,” Red said as he looked at the coins, a little Swiss Army knife and an old fuzzy half roll of Life-Savers. “Now off with the clothes.”

“What? Here?” Wally asked as Red leaned against the wall and watched the lad squirm.

“Cops will make you do it at the station,” Red said coldly.

“Oh man,” Wally whined as he reluctantly stood up and pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, revealing a skinny frame with a gold cross hanging down on his smooth chest.

“What’s this, thou shall not steal except from Red’s?” the grizzled ex-Marine snarled as he mocked the little hypocrite.

“I told you I was sorry,” the kid whined.

“You sure are,” he retorted. “Now lift your arms up.”

“I ain’t got nothing hidden,” Wally protested.

“That’s shitty English son. Now get them up.”

“Told you there ain’t nothing,” Wally sniffed after he raised his arms up.

“There sure ain’t,” Red observed as he reached over and grabbed the modest wisp of hairs under the boy’s arms and gave them a yank. “What do you do, shave them pits?”

“No,” Wally cried out in shock. “Hey, that hurt.”

“Going to go run back to camp like a sissy and tell Mommy and Daddy the bad man hurt you?” Red taunted.

“I’m not a sissy,” Wally claimed.

“I’m not convinced otherwise so far,” Red declared. “Now the take rest off.”

“What are you going to do mister?” Wally asked as he delayed taking down his shorts for a long as he could.

“Make sure there’s no other contraband on you,” Red said. “You kids stick stuff everywhere. Last month I had a punk with a dozen double AA batteries in his fruit-of-the-looms so I do an intense search on all you kids.”

“I can’t believe this,” Wally said as he dropped his shorts and stood there in only his socks and tight white briefs. “There. See. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Sure don’t look like there’s anything much in there,” Red observed, and as he gestured toward the modest bulge he asked, “What is that there? A Chap-stick?”.

“How come you’re so mean?”

“That’s how I treat thieves,” Red explained. “If you were just a neighbor kid I’d treat you nice. I’ve got a few young fellas who come visit me in the off-season and we have a good time.”

“Good time? What…” Wally asked, his hands shaking as they held onto the striped elastic.

“You don’t play dumb well son,” Red sighed. “I can see through you real easy. Now take those underwear down.”

“Happy?” Wally asked after he complied.

“I will be when you move your hand away from your pecker,” Red said, and after Wally complied he added, “I can see why you’re hiding it though. Oh well, maybe it will grow when kaçak iddaa you get older.”

“Got 6″,” the lad sniffed. “I’m just scared.”

“Six inches?” Red snickered as he mocked the pale tube dangling under a little nest of curls. “In your dreams. You know what 6″ looks like?”

Red pulled down his zipper and reached in, and after he extracted his manhood and let it hand out of the fly of his trousers he proclaimed, “Now that’s what six inches looks like.”

“I – I meant hard,” Wally said as he stared at the tan uncut cock that was riddled with veins.

“Show me,” Red said, and when Wally screwed up his face in confusion the older man explained. “Get it up, if you can that is. You show me 6″ and you can walk out a free man – with the candy bars.”

“Right here?” Wally asked as he looked around the store room.

“Unless you want to do it back in your camp. Now get it up, and don’t give me any crap about needing a Playboy magazine either,” Red retorted, and as he reached down and took his limp cock in hand and began stretching it out lazily he suggested, “I think I know what you like to look at.”

“What do you mean?” Wally asked, watching the old man pull on his dick like it was made of elastic. “I like girls.”

“You mean you like girls TOO, don’t you son?” Red scoffed, and when the lad blushed and said nothing his voice changed. “Nothing wrong with that. I do too.”

“That’s it,” Red was saying a minute later, and the two stood facing each other pulling on their cocks, the hard-nosed veteran’s hand moving slowly while the lad’s moved with an increasingly quick tempo. “Get that dick hard now.”

“Well now son,” Red said when after a minute or so of work their erections were pointing at each other, and after walking over to the kid he grabbed his own cock and clubbed Wally’s skinny boner with it. “I admit that it’s a lot more impressive now than it was, but I don’t think it’s any 6″. More like 5″ I think.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of there son, It’s a sweet looking piece of meat,” Red said as his hand reached over and took the lad’s stiff prong in his fist and squeezed it lightly. “Now tell the truth. You didn’t want those candy bars did you? Am I right?”

“Yes sir,” Wally sniffed as he looked at the older man with doe-like eyes as his cock pulsed in the rough fist of the store owner, and he gasped when the store owner ground the heads of their cocks together hard.

“I know what you wanted son. I guess word gets around fast,” Red admitted as his grip tightened and loosened on the dick in his right hand as he grabbed the lad’s wrist with his other hand and dropped it on his own erection, smiling when he felt Wally squeeze it. “Some other shoplifter at camp tell you about me?”

“Thought so,” Red said when the silence spoke volumes. “You know you can leave if you want to.”

“Yes sir.”

“You know what I’m going to do if you stay, right?”

“I think so.”

“What is that exactly?” Red asked as he disengaged from Wally and went over to the desk and pulled out a jar of Vaseline.

“You’re going to have anal sex with me?”

“Close,” Red said as he slathered the gel liberally over the 8′ muscled inches of his manhood while Wally watched every move. “Now repeat after me – say it loud so the recorder catches what we’re saying.”

“Recorder?” Wally asked.

“Of course. You don’t think I would risk everything in case somebody got buyer’s regret afterwords and tries to say I forced them to do something,” Red explained. “Okay, just say that you like me and you want me to put my dick in your boy pussy.”

“I – I like you Red and want you to put your big dick in my boy pussy,” Wally almost yelled as he looked around for the non-existent recorder.

“Good boy. I liked where you adlibbed the word big in there,” Red said as he took Wally and led him to the back of the room. “Now let’s go around these shelves – I’m sure you’ve heard about this chair.”

The old man could actually hear the boy swallow when they went up to the once-fancy red velvet chair which was facing the other way, and as he bent Wally over the back the kid asked, “It’s gonna hurt, ain’t it mister?”

“You mean isn’t it,” don’t you son?” Red asked as he pushed his greased hand between the lad’s taut butt cheeks, and as his index finger found the puckered ring and pushed it in he added. “Pain – pleasure – it’s such a thin line. Now this doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Ah – ah – a little,” Wally gasped.

“Just relax son. Just let me loosen up this tight little boy pussy up for you,” Red advised as he corkscrewed his fat digit deep into the furnace of Wally’s bowels while letting his pants drop down. “Tight. You taken a fella in there before?”

“Once,” Wally gasped as his feet came a little off the floor.

“He have a big one? Was he as big as me?”

“God kaçak bahis no,” Wally choked.

“Don’t be blasphemous,” Red chided.

“Sorry. No. His dick was normal.”

“Normal?” Red chuckled, and then he was pulling his finger out and sidling up behind the young fellow with his cock in his fist. “Spread them honey. Give that pussy to me.”

“Won’t fit mister,” Wally squealed after Red tried and failed to insert the crown of his manhood into the tiny ring. “It hurts.”

“You got to relax son,” Red sighed as he gave up for the time being, and after he moved to the lad’s side he began working his stubby finger into the tight anus again while with his other hand he grabbed Wally’s semi-turgid prong and began pulling on it.

“That’s it,” Red sighed as his fingers began to loosen up the orifice while the cock in his fist got stiff fast.

“Oh!” Wally cried out as Red felt the slender reed pulsate in his grip, and as it began to get limp the boy said, “Sorry. I made a mess.”

“Isn’t the first and won’t be the last,” Red philosophized as he let go of the spent dick and flicked his wrist to lose the rope of cum on the back of his hand. “Now let’s see if I can get my cock in your tight ass.

“Can’t!” Wally cried out as he felt the old man’s bulbous knob stretching his puckered ring, but this time Red didn’t back off and as Wally’s feet left the floor the old man finally squeezed inside of the lad.

“That’s a tight pussy you got there son,” Red said as he took a deep breath. “I want to stay in your little oven as long as I can so I’m going to take my time.”

“Ow!” Wally whimpered as Red made slow and steady progress with gentle thrusts, dropping some jelly down into the abyss as he worked half of his cock inside the lad.

“You’re doing fine son. Soon I’m going to have my whole cock in your sweet ass and you’ll be begging for more,” Red informed Wally as the boy laid limply over the back of the chair and made the faintest of grunting sounds to punctuate each of the store-owner’s strokes inward.

How many have there been? Red pondered as he thought back over the years – decades – that he had owned the store and had taken care of shoplifters like this.

Men and women of all ages – at least the ones of age. When faced with the option of the police or being bent over the chair, most had taken the chair. If the stained chair could only talk… and now it wasn’t a deterrent. These young fellas were coming in and trying to get caught stealing because they had heard about his skill.

This youngster – he would go back to camp and tell somebody else – and then there would be another shoplifter coming in around closing time. Is this anyway to run a business, Red mused?’

As long as I can still get it up it will be, Red told himself as his thrusts got deeper and harder, and now he was impaling almost the entire length of his cock into that little bony ass in front of him.

Harder and faster, and just as he always did Red found himself getting a little crazy as the end neared. The back legs of the chair were hopping up with each thrust, as as he hunched over the skinny lad and reached around him he found that the slim prong he had just drained a little while ago was hard again.

Almost savagely now he humped the lad while his fist yanked hard on Wally’s dick. The boy, as lifeless as a rag doll except for his boner, cried out something inaudible and then seconds later the rigid dick was deflating again.

Red felt his own orgasm coming, just in time as his back began to tighten up, and then he came, his fleshy manhood once again rising to occasion and rewarding the lad with a healthy load of his warm seed.

As was his custom after it was over, Red rested briefly on top of the fellow until his flaccid cock flopped out, and only then did he back up a couple steps and bend over to inspect his work.

“Ooh!” Wally gasped when the old man’s fingers ran around the rim of the gaping orifice that was contracting rapidly.

“Good as new in no time,” Red declared, and after he gave the bony butt a playful slap helped the lad get his legs under him before getting his own pants back up.

Wally gingerly walked over to where his clothes were, his gait looking like he had just gotten off a horse, and after he got dressed Red walked him back out through the store. Unlocking the door Red held it open and then stopped, reaching over to the counter to grab the Sky Bars and Oh Henry’s that got this all started.

“Here you go son. Now don’t come back,” Red said after handing him the booty, and patted him on the back as he left, adding, “Good luck in the Navy.”

“Yes sir. Sorry about all that,” Wally said. “Thanks.”

Red watched as the little guy waddled to where he had left his bike, and Red chuckled when after Wally grimaced after he lifted his leg a couple of times, the boy decided to walk alongside it instead of riding and he walked down Route 8 toward his campground with a pocket full of candy and a story to tell his friends.


Thank you for reading.

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