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THE BROKEN STREETLIGHT
A Short Story
by
Yungie Boi
2026
Copyright
The Broken Streetlight
Copyright © 2026 by Yungie Boi
All rights reserved.
Disclaimer
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for mature readers aged 18 and older only. By purchasing and reading this story, you acknowledge that you are a consenting adult of legal age, fully aware of the graphic depictions of consensual power exchange, dominance and submission, older/younger dynamics, and intense erotic acts contained herein. All characters are fictional and above 18 years old. This is adult erotic fiction.
THE BROKEN STREETLIGHT
The streetlight at the mouth of the alley has been broken for three weeks. The city hasn't fixed it. The city won't fix it. The alley is a black mouth, no light, no visibility, just the shapes of dumpsters and fire escapes and the distant glow from the street behind me, fading to nothing five steps in.
I'm kneeling. My knees are on concrete—cold, rough, damp—and my hands are on the ground in front of me, palms flat, fingers spread. My jeans are around my thighs. My ass is up. My cock is hard, hanging between my legs, and the air is cold on my skin, on my hole, on my balls.
The blindfold is a strip of black cloth, tied tight behind my head. I can't see anything. Not light, not shadow, not shape. Just black. Just the inside of the cloth and the inside of my own skull.
There's a coffee can next to my right hand. Metal. Open. The mouth is wide enough for bills. That's the deal. Five dollars. Drop it in the can. Take a turn. No talking. No questions. No names.
I've been here forty minutes. The can has eleven dollars in it. Two men. The first one fucked my mouth—quick, rough, tasted like smoke and salt. The second one fucked my ass—slower, deeper, his hands on my hips, his cock thick, and he came inside me with a grunt and a shove that pushed my face into the concrete.