The Facialist Chapter 25-26 A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side by Mykola Dementiuk

 

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions

The Facialist

A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side

by Mykola Dementiuk

Chapter 25

I jerked off a few times that night but each time I turned in my sleep, the thoughts about Pani Stetz and how nice to me intruded. Of course, interspersed with cruel Shelly lying about me, and Dickie running away from the puking boy, it's best I run from them and keep out of the way. 

But by dawn I was asleep, didn't even hear mom as she left to do her shopping, or whatever she was doing. It was after eight when I opened my eyes, and the image of Shelly invaded my thoughts. He no longer meant anything to Dickie. He was out, I was in. Or was I?

Dickie must have a stable coming over on different days, to learn how to do it and then service him. Shelly was out, I was in. In, out, just as in screwing. You stick it in, you pull it out. In, out, in, out...

I was stiff, rubbing my hardening cock. I let go. No, I wasn't going to do it. 

I leaped out of bed and thought about mom. Did she even suspect how much I had changed in just a matter of days. 

I shook my head and went to the bathroom where I sat down and peed. Ah, that always feels good. No matter how desperate you are, you still have to piss and shit somewhere. 

I flushed the toilet, turned on the hot water and waited. Damn, no hot water. I rinsed, dried my face, and went to the kitchen. 

Had a bowl of cereal and got enmeshed by the advertising on the back of the box about a puzzle concerning the states of the union, Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas... A puzzle of fifty states for fifty cents, plus postage and handling. I chuckled, obviously a rip-off of little kids. I put the cereal dish in the sink and went to get dressed.

But still, I was leery and apprehensive about going to Pani Stetz's apartment, after all Shelly was right above her. What if there was a hole in his floor Shelly could spy on us from above?  

I thought of Pani Stetz's ceiling but couldn't remember having seen anything up there. Seen what? Shelly peeking down and seeing the blowjob I was getting from his horny big-breasted neighbor? How did her blowjobs compare with Dickie's?

I grinned. She certainly knew better how to concentrate on the actual sucking, mysteriously covering her teeth with her lips and not with that bitter gnawing of Dickie. 

A lazy walk up First Avenue, gazing at the morning shoppers at the greengrocers getting to have their food at hand to prepare for tonight's dinner plates and meals. Mornings were my favorite time to watch them. When I was little, holding onto my mother's purse or bag, the women would push and try to grab a fruit or vegetable that some other shopper wanted. I was always amused by the battles for possession of food that would ensue.

I chuckled and turned on Eleventh Street, a quiet street with a few tenements, a barber shop, a beauty parlor, a florist, and a garage for automobiles. 

I stood in the doorway of Pani Stetz's building; it was only quarter to ten, still early. When I heard unmistakable woman's steps coming down the stairs. I darted out of the doorway and quickly skirted to the garage. A woman came out of Shelly's building. I breathed out; it was no one I knew. 

I noticed the garage man looking at me through his windowed office. I stepped back out from the garage and walked back to Second Avenue. I had about an hour to kill before I was expected by Pani Stetz and thought again I'd take a walk by the Second Avenue Park.

I frowned, thinking of the man who left me in the restroom because my penis was so badly bitten. The hell with you, mister! Pani Stetz had it in her mouth and liked it. Hell, put it in her mouth and sucked it without biting me Oh, they both are assholes, Dickie and the anonymous fairy man.

I entered the park. A few people sitting around the fountain reading books, newspapers, or just staring into space and smoking cigarettes. I winced from the memory of being unable to smoke menthol cigarettes. At school, some boys did that, lighting up cigarettes when they were trying to impress some girl; still I didn't know if they ever got the girl? 

On the sidewalk at Seventeen Street, I bent down and tied my sneaker. How many times did I do that in a day, tying my shoes, certainly a few times. It was my way of taking a break and surreptitiously eyeing someone following or me following them.

Then I saw him, the same man who called me a faggot kid from yesterday. He was sitting on a park bench, his legs crossed and smoking a cigarette. I had tied my shoelace and could either walk in dis direction or go back the way I had come. Pretending I had not seen him, I stood him and headed towards him. Damn, my penis was hard!

We must have noticed each other because we kept looking at the other. Yet a few times I turned away as I walked nearer but always turning back as if mesmerized by his penetrating gaze. He nodded as I drew near, and as a reminder, I nodded back at him.

"Out for a walk, I take it," he said, flicking his cigarette away.

"Yeah, out for some air," I answered. I stood before him, one leg uplifted to the bench as if undecided whether to take seat or keep standing. I sat down.

"Still mad about yesterday?" he asked.

"Nah, I understand why you did that," I said, looking at him. "I was damaged, sorry," I bent my head thinking, why don't I just leave?

"Don't be, kid," he said, touching and rubbing my knee. "If anyone has to be sorry it's the weirdo who did that to you. If anyone does that to you, I'd stay away from that creep. That's definitely a sorry loser, a bastard I wouldn't let near me again."

He let go of my knee and drew out his cigarette pack. I shook my head, as I declined his offer. "Have it your way," he said, and lit one up.

I liked this man sitting next to me; he was elderly, older than Dickie was, but he seemed to be more honest and certain in how he acted. No fakery or pretense in his nature. He was an old sissy relaxing on a park bench, and I was sitting and relaxing beside him. 

"In a day or so," he continued, drawing on his cigarette, "if that creep doesn't bite and damage you again, we'll get together and see where it goes from there." He smiled, looking up and down the paths, running his hand to my crotch. "Mm, very nice, you're hard already," and he winked. "Or you happy to see me?"

"Huh, what?" I looked at him.

"Never mind, kid. An old joke before your time, that's all."

I remembered that Dickie had told me the same thing about Mae West in an old movie of hers...

Again, he winked and stood up from the bench, flicking cigarette away and looking in the opposite direction. 

"See you in a few days," he said, "if you're alright, that is." He turned and followed the trail that skirted along the park. The trail led to the restrooms where we met yesterday.

Then I recognized what he was after. I turned red; a young man, perhaps a little older than I was, had climbed the single step to the restroom. In the doorway he looked behind him, then nodded and stepped in. A few steps more and the elderly man entered after him.

I winced from the fear and shame that I was not allowed entry into that public but private sanctuary.

I rubbed my crotch, then shook my head and hurried to Pani Stetz house; it was almost ten, anyway. 

Chapter 26

I was wary of going up the stairs in Pani Stetz's building, trying not to make a sound, but with these fairly news buildings there were many that had birthing cracks and groins. Every step I took was like a loud notice that signaled someone is there. Fortunately, no one opened their door, and I made it up to Pani Stetz's apartment. 

She almost instantly answered. standing in a long negligée, her large breasts braless, with a panty brief covering her crotch.

"Oh, it's you," she said, yawning.

I turned red from looking at her in the pink negligée, my mouth open.

"Thought it was Stahsh, he just left, too, a little while ago," and she winked. "Thought it was him coming back for more..." 

She looked out her doorway; I suppose looking for Stahsh, but grinned at me and shut the door.

"He was pretty wasted and so was I, but he had to go into work. Poor baby, I hope the boss is out and he can get a little sleep." 

She touched my arm, running her fingers up and down along my bicep.

"You know how to make coffee?" she asked, turning and going to a cabinet. "Here, make this instant Maxwell House, just boil water." She handed me a small jar of coffee.

"This is coffee?" I said, opening the jar and taking a whiff of the brand. But she had turned, yawned, and stood in the doorway. "Just add water, read the instructions, it's all there." And she left the room, though unsurely. I realized she was still drunk. Must have had some night with her beau, Stahsh... 

I grinned and rubbed my crotch, again breathing in the smell of coffee. It seemed too fresh and too fake at the same time. Mom kept something similar, but it was the cheaper brand from the A&P supermarket on Fifth Street. Mom liked it, I didn't.

The water boiled. I made her a cup and sat at the kitchen table awaiting her return. Damn, I shouldn't have made the coffee, what an idiot! Let her pour it herself from the jar. 

But five minutes, seven minutes, ten minutes went by and silence throughout the house. I stood up.

"Pani Stetz," I called. "Your coffee's ready."

Nothing but silence.  Maybe she's waiting for me in her room, I grinned.

"Pani Stetz," I repeated, peering into her bedroom. She had dropped on the bed, clutching a cannister of hairspray, which lay on its side with its flip-top cover removed. With her panties and bare breasts exposed out of the pink negligée, I instantly felt my hard-on pushing out in my pants. 

"Pani Stetz," I again whispered, taking a step towards her. She loudly snored, her throat gurgling chaotically. I wanted to lie down beside her and hold her in my arms, but the loud gurgle stirred her awake. She looked at me, as if trying to remember who I was. 

"Your coffee's ready," I said, having turned red. "Didn't know what happened to you?"

She sat up in her bed, holding her head. "Yes, yes," she mumbled, trying to focus her eyes, but they were bloodshot and wasted. "You came to...do something but can't remember what it was?"

"Fix your locks. Plus, you have a leak, it drips.""

By then she had slumped on the bed, her head dropping back; the hairspray cannister rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor. 

"Wha...!?" she bolted up and saw the cannister rolling along on the floor. "What the fuck was that?" She momentarily shut her eyes and made a face like she was in horrible pain. 

"Are you alright?" I asked. "The can rolled off your bed, that's all."

"Yes, yes," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "Just had a little too much with Stahsh. Listen, can you come back some other day?" she said, pushing herself up from the bed and staggering to the hallway. "I really need some sleep and to get sober once again." She looked sleepy-eyed at me. "Oh, can you take this bag out...has old clothes? Leave it with the other garbage bags. Thanks, you're a doll." She looked at me. "Stahsh is going to move in here, he needs a place. You don't mind, do you?"

Mind, why should I mind? I frowned but shook my head, picking up her garbage bag.

"Okay, tomorrow," I mumbled, "See you then..."

I stood looking at her doorway, but she just nodded and shut her door after me. I stood there then looked up the stairs, pulled my zipper down and gripped my cock. The ejaculation was almost immediate.

"Bitch!" I hissed and spat out. "Fucking bitch!" My semen lay on the floor, dull, not glistening. 

I thought of Shelly upstairs and stormed out of the building.

 

More to come on the upper right...or you can read the eBook now, click here:

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions

The Facialist Chapter 23-24 A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side by Mykola Dementiuk

 

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions

The Facialist

A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side

by Mykola Dementiuk

Chapter 23

 I was pissed, angrily storming out of the restroom and looking around, but the park was empty, a light drizzle had begun.

I walked down Second Avenue to Eleventh Street, passing by Shelly's and Pani Stetz's building, frowning to myself as I continued to the comforting peace of the Tompkins Square Library.

It was nice being there and out of the misty drizzle. The library books stacked neatly, the few people reading and pursing knowledge, the librarian supervising the movement of books, of checking them in or out.

In the library the busyness of the outside world seemed to be closed off by the front door. No Entry, the mystical sign seemed to say, unless you want to read, pursue knowledge, and maintain your silence!

I walked to the New Books standing on a shelf. Very strange science fiction, gooey stories of romance, clever intrigue in the business world, and on and on it went.

I picked up a paperback, Holy Christ, that's Pani Stetz! Or at least the caricature looked like her. It showed a drawing of a seductive shiny-haired woman sitting sprawled out on the floor, her legs in shortened pants but spread out before her, and her arms uplifted behind her just waiting to be ravished.

I grabbed the book off the shelf and went to a row of other books where I had flirted and whispered with Shelly. 

But I frowned, the book was a drag to read, really a silly mystery. I expected a revealing view of what goes on in the bedrooms, but all it showed were lifeless words going nowhere, which after a while, was pretty boring and lifeless. I knew they'd have to let the killer go.

I put the book down and stretched my arms, glancing at the slowly ticking clock, high up on the wall.

Wow, five minutes to three, I'd better get out of here. I glanced at the book cover, smirking to myself, and left the library.

It was a short walk to Eleventh Street near Second Avenue. 

Amazing how good I was feeling, it must have been that sexy book cover I was holding while the inner words did nothing to me. 

I walked right into Pani Stetz's building and confidently strode up her stairs. The hell with Shelly, I thought, nothing but a useless sissy. I frowned. Wasn't I one too?

I knocked on her door, silence. I knocked again, still silence. 

She did say three, didn't she?

I shrugged and skipped down the stairs when entering the doorway came Shelly and his mother. Shelly seemed beaten and defeated, he looked up.

"That's him," gushed Shelly, pointing a finger at me, "the queer sissy I told the counselor about, he dragged me there! Him and his queer friends! He made me do it! They just want to kiss and suck boys! Now he's looking for other boys. Oh, mommy, don't let him take me away, please!" And he buried himself in her arms as she cuddled him.

"Oh, no, my son," she said viciously. "No one's going to take you away. I'll get the police and they will take him away, him and his perverted lover."

I was wide-eyed, staring at Shelly and his mother. So, he had ratted on us, and, of course, blamed me for everything.

I inched to the front door, Shelly and his mother inched back out of my way, with a cunning silent smirk on Shelly's face. 

I tore open the front door and heard his mother shouting, "Run, you pervert, run, but you won't have far to go, that's for sure. Teaching my innocent boy these horrible things..."

I raced to the corner, constantly looking behind me, but their front door remained shut and no one came after me. 

But on First Avenue I recognized Pani Stetz, walking up the block of her building, her dress still swaying back and forth on her legs. I bit my lips, thinking the hell with Shelly's mother, and raced back in her direction, coming right up to her as she reached the door.

She was surprised, "Oh, it's you. So sorry in keeping you waiting."  She glanced at her watch, "A little after three, no big deal," she said, smiling brightly, and entering the hallway. "The crosstown bus can be horrendous. Would you believe it takes half an hour to get across Fourteenth Street from Eight Avenue, what should take fine, ten minutes."

I nodded and followed her up the stairs but looking to see if anyone was standing on her stairs; no one was. Pani Stetz saw me glancing up the stairway as she was opening her door.

"Looking for your friend?" she asked, but I recognized the smirk on her face.

"He's not my friend. I just see him now and then in Tompkins Square Park."

"Well, I'd keep away if I was you," she said, nodding her head. "The hell with their fake niceness, it's all a sham. But don't worry about him, I suppose that mama's boy is inside." She shook her head and sighed, kicking her shoes off. "I should call him what he really is, a flaming homo but don't you dare say where you heard it from." 

She winked and made a drink for herself. "You want one?"

I shook my head, "No, no, ma'am, uh huh."

She shrugged and sat down on her couch.

"What did that homo do to you?"

"He said stupid things about me," I said, relieved I was talking with someone who seemed to understand. "Things that he's making up as he goes along. You're right, that boy's a sissy liar, said I dragged to an apartment where they did dirty things to him." 

She shook her head, taking puff after puff and snuffed her cigarette out. 

"I once saw him a few weeks ago," she added, "as I was going to my optometrist on Avenue C. Him and a man entered a building. And the man took his hand. They were holding hands as they climbed the stairs, imagine that!" She shook her head. "Now you tell me, who else but a homo would do such a thing?"

I turned red but breathed out. Certainly, she was talking about Dickie leading Shelly into his apartment building.

"Wow, you saw him?"

She nodded. "Uh huh, it was him alright. But I didn't say anything to his mother, what would I say anyway. The boy's old to know what's what. If he wants to be a homo, well, that's his choice, he knows what he's doing." She looked at me, and smirked, "Sucking cock..."

I gulped and turned red, blushing and feeling very awkward, too. I had never heard the words homo or cock spoken by a woman, though once I did hear little girls chanting it as they skipped a rope, but there was something silly in the way pronounced the words, hemo, cack...

I grinned at her, feeling my erection rising. 

"They do that," I said, looking at her, "suck each other's cock?"

"Uh huh," she nodded her head. "But what a waste, why, that's a woman's job, her mouth was made for a man," and she winked, "made for that purpose, sucking cock," and she carefully looked at me. "Besides other things she can do with her mouth, you know?"

I swallowed, hardly breathing but my prick was pushing upwards, as her fingertips kept playing with the chest edges of my T-shirt.

"Bet you have many girlfriends, no?" she asked, pressing herself to me.

I was sitting at her couch hearing the kitchen sink dripping, clip clop, clip clop... I knew I should have at least tried to fix the drip...

Her arms were around me.

"Do you ever think of one girl and going with her all the way? You can tell me..."?

My God, what was she asking, of course, I think of girls, who doesn't? Every woman or girl I pass on the street I'm fucking her. I think about them all the time...yet I go with men, mostly into restrooms and now with one finally in his arms on his bed...So, was I queer, or wasn't I? Of course, I am... Well, I think... 

"We tried doing it, me and this girl," I lied, looking right at her. "But it didn't work." I shamefully lowered my head, now avoiding her eyes.

"What didn't work?" she asked, pushing away from me.

"You know that boy/girl thing," I looked at her. "She bit too much."

"Huh, what do you mean?" she said, gazing back and forth, from my mouth to my eyes.

"You know, she scratched and bit me up, that blood came out."

"Aww, poor baby," she gushed, stepping much closer that I felt her fingertips tweaking my hard crotch. "Let me see, I promise I won't bite." She took me by the hand. "But let's go to the other room." 

She led me to the couch in the living room. "Girls can be so crude, if they don't know what they're doing. Now, let me see..." and she reached for my zipper, pulling it down my dungaree pants.

I had given up on my fear, just letting her do what she wanted, but winced as her reaching for my stiffly erect cock.

"Oh, my, my..."

The cock as beautifully erect but with red splotches scattered about the shaft, the uncut skin covering the top in a loose fold of skin. She frowned, as she moved down the couch and got to her knees before me.

"Tsk, tsk," she made a sound, clicking her tongue and lips together. "I'll take care of you, baby," and she lowered her head. Her fingers moved around my penis and moved them up and down. "Ugh, what's this?" And she sat up, instantly letting go of my dick and rubbing her palm on her chest.

"Just medicine I put on, to keep it burning too much."

"Medicine, what kind of medicine?"

"Vaseline," I answered.

She laughed. "You call that medicine?" Bet you that the boy upstairs knows what that medicine is really used for, taking it up the ass!"

And she took a tissue from a box at the side of the couch and wiped clean of the Vaseline then tenderly reached for my penis again. My eyes widened.

So, this is what Dickie was eventually trying to do with his Vaseline, enter me from the rear, fuck me in the ass!  

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Those namby-pamby homos rub it around their assholes then push their dicks in. I'm sure they need some gel, or you won't get in at all."

"Gel...is Vaseline a gel?"

She nodded. "If anyone wants to use gel on you, you'd better watch your ass, honey."

"My mom has some in her medicine chest."

"Well, that's different. Mom is mom. I'm talking about some homos; you never know about them." And she shook her head. "Why are we talking about them for?" she said, holding my penis right before her. She pulled the skin back, exposing the raw red muscle. 

"Poor baby," she cooed and dipped her head to the stiffened organ. But she looked up. "You know, a woman's saliva is the best medicine..." and she instantly swallowed my organ. 

I melted, but within moments I felt that stirring in my balls, quickly rushing to the tip of my cock and spitting itself out, right in her mouth! 

And not once did her teeth brush against my cock. I was delirious, ecstatic, spilling out my semen down her throat. And she swallowed every drop and not once did I feel any teeth on me. The woman was ideal! 

But I was quickly drained, wasted. She sucked my cock, then must have realized it was weakening and let it plop from her mouth; a dribble of semen and saliva cascaded down her chin, as she wiped it off with the back of her hand. 

"Whew, that was good," she said, and smiled at me. "Delicious, really, but you sure are fast, aren't you?" and she winked at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "was too excited.

"Well, don't be," she said, pushing herself up. "Oh, my, look at the time..."

I glanced at the flowery wall clock --4:15 it read.

"Have to be out by six," she said, brushing her dress and winking at me. "Got to change, have a date tonight, hope he's as good as you were," and she winked again.

"Oh, right," I said, rising and inserting my penis and zippering up.

She looked at me and bit her bottom lip. "But come back tomorrow, you hear? Come back early, around ten or so."

"Sure, I'll be here. Anytime you want."

"You gotta pee, the bathrooms there...?" she pointed, and I went, and a beautiful yellow pee spat out, Ahhh...

She stood in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette.

"You're my boyfriend now," she said, squeezing and holding m hand. Our lips met and I kissed her deeply. But she broke from me.

"Tomorrow, baby, just wait till tomorrow, I have something more to teach you." And she again winked and tongued her lips and opened the door.

Upstairs I heard footsteps descending on the stairs. Shelly's mother stopped and looked at us. She saw Pani Stetz holding my hand and looking up at her. Shelly's mother was about to say something but angrily turned and climbed stairs back up; all we heard was the slamming of her door.

I looked at Pani Stetz, but she shook her head and waved her hand dismissively.

"Tomorrow, come after ten."

She closed the door, and I looked up at Shelly's apartment; I happily trotted down the stairs.

Chapter 24

At around six pm I was in Tompkins Square Park. It was the usual evening crowd --kids playing and running, people coming home from work, the benches filling with idlers and gazers.

But it seems that with Dickie opening my eyes --his trying to stick his cock in my mouth and ass-- the world now seemed very different from what I envisioned before.

Eash idler was staring at the possibility that another idler also staring right back at him. And my stroll in the park had become a display, a show-off tease, a flirtation with other lookers staring at me. Under each adult sitting on a bench, there was also the potential possibility of a user and abuser of a naive teenaged boy. 

Somewhere in the unpeopled paths, along Avenue B, I collapsed onto a bench, my penis hard and stiff. Amazing that just a while ago I was with Pani Stetz, and I was ready to do it with her again. If there were a way, I could satisfy that sexual hunger in me I certainly would do so. Just whip it out, give myself what would be a normal run-of-the-mill jerking-off. 

I scratched my hard crotch and looked to the Men's Room, a short distance away. A few men went in and out as I awkwardly stood up, staggering to the restroom.

When in the doorway I walked right into Dickie, hurriedly coming out. We exchanged looks but he bolted away, leaving me looking after him in confusion. He sped down the walkway on Ninth Street, turned onto and disappeared on Avenue B.

Now what was that all about? I shook my head and entered the dimly lit restroom.

As usual, the smell of disinfection permeated the entire facility. No matter how many times the urinals were flushed, mere water wasn't enough to clear the room of the smell of urine, a poisonous but crisp biting stench signifying the first sign of stagnation, followed by the victorious smell of shit. If not for the constantly rising waters the place would make you retch.

I went to the urinals when I heard puking and gagging. Water flushed and the gagger spat out a few more times. I turned and saw a teenage boy staggering out of the urinals, holding on to the edge of the cubicle, his yellowish T-shirt sprinkled with looked like droplets of water. But I suspected it was Dickie's cum. 

I took a few steps towards him, with my penis out and aimed at him. The boy gazed at my erect muscle, his mouth watering, until he gagged and exploded in vomit once again. I quickly zippered up and was out of the restroom.

Outside, I thought to wait and see what the boy did now. But what was I waiting really for? I wasn't like Dickie, enticing kids up to his apartment, where the young kids were more than ready follow him to his bed and give themselves up so willingly. That's what I had done a few days ago, and boy, had my world changed! I shook my head. No way did I want to do that again! 

I turned and walked out of the park, heading west on Ninth Street. The bars and clubs along Avenue A were all filling up with loud argumentive talkers and drinkers. 

This was the way that people lived, they work, they labor all day long then spend whatever time they have left, drinking. What a way to live... 

But I was going to do the same one day, in these bars or defiantly in others. Anyway, what difference did it make?  

On Ninth Street and First Avenue I chucked, remembering a few years ago when I had been overcome by some big boys who dragged me over to a gushing johnny pump where I was deluged by a stream of powerful water.

I staggered home, drenched, my face contorted with continuous sobbing and crying as the big boys laughed and hooted at my shame.  

Oh, stop being such a baby, they laughed. It's only water! followed by more hooting and scorn, and on they went...

I smirked, lost in my thoughts, when I heard, "Sissy creep!"

I looked up; it was Shelly, walking along First Avenue. He made a face and gave me a fig sign, fingers curved in with the thumb inserted between the index and middle fingers, in an obvious obscene gesture.

"Namby-pamby!" I said after him.

An elderly man walking up First Avenue scowled and shook his head. "Takes one to know one," he mumbled.

"That's him," I said, pointing at Shelly. "A real namby-pamby; wants to wear girl's clothes."

"Oh, really, now?" The man paused and looked at Shelly who had already crossed the avenue, his tight jiggling ass behind him. The man looked back at me. I was staring after Shelly and the man stepped up his speed and followed him. 

I shrugged and went home. 

More to come on the upper right...or you can read the eBook now, click here:

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions

The Facialist Chapter 21-22 A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side by Mykola Dementiuk

 

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions

The Facialist

A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side

by Mykola Dementiuk

Chapter 21

I got home and mom was making some stew with chicken noodle soup, my favorite. Funny, but the soup reminded me of Dickie. Chicken noodle soup, a Yiddish favorite, and boychicks, too.

I blushed at the table. Every little thing now reminded of Dickie and Shelly, that we were secret lovers, but I couldn't talk about Dickie except with Dickie, a contradiction of terms.

Then it hit me, I'll talk with Shelly, he was out, I was in! Wonder how would he like that idea?

I smiled at mom and happily gulped the delicious soup down, then onto my hearty stew. Yum, that was good! When I finished, I went to my little room, just a bed and a clothes cabinet but that's all I needed anyway.

I turned on the radio and listened to a few nonsense stories, mostly gooey romances or sneaky detective thrillers and turned if off; had enough of the ridiculous gibberish anyway. Picked up a comic book and gazed at the female super-hero, or is that super-heroine? Anyway, her short-skirted costume was beautiful and erotic.

I rubbed myself, wishing mom wasn't home so I could jerk-off, then went into the living room and picked up a magazine that mom had laying around. 

Pictures of women in dresses and a few in daring pants were on display. I thought about the journal had seen in Dickie's house showing off women in frilly clothes that I now wondered if they were really women in the pictured clothes or boys and men just playing at being feminine girls.

Ah, hell, I was hard again. 

I went to the bathroom and started filling the tub with water.

"Gonna take bath, ma!" I yelled; mom mumbled something back, so I shrugged and stepped into the tub. 

The hot water came gushed out and steam quickly the probed the air, filling the small bathroom with nice warm heat clouds. 

I relaxed in the tub, rubbing my stiff erection. And very quickly, I shot out. I love jerking-off and cuming in the tub. Surrounded by water it's amazing how the sperm doesn't gush out from your cock but oozes out slowly as if freed into drifts and weaves about your body. 

I dipped my head under the water, the scum playing around me, like getting a scum massage. I surged back up. 

It was marvelous and I felt great, my own sticky scum on my flesh, and I loved it!

I dried myself and left the bathroom. It was still early --just after six-- and I lay on my bed reading a comic book. I remembered how a few years previously I had that exact comic rolled up, sticking out of my back pocket, and went into the restroom in a park at Pitt Street thinking I'd take a whizz.

Almost instantly the door reopened, and an elderly man came in after me. He licked his lips and stood at the urinal next to mine, unzippering, and reaching in for his massive cock. 

But all cocks I had spied on men were massive. I was just a kid, maybe twelve, thirteen, and I felt timid as I stood at the urinal, feebly holding my dripping but slowly erecting penis.

I saw the man's cock was stiff and poking the air before him. When suddenly he reached over and clasped my penis, as if it were a natural thing to do, pulling the skin back until he revealed the bloated cockhead. 

That scared me; I had never seen my own cock with the skin so tautly pulled back. The sudden freshness burned and bit. I felt as if my dick was being ripped off.

What is he doing!? I thought, pushing his hand off and turning aside. The rolled-up comic fell from my back pocket. I bent down to snatch it when he took a step and his penis hovered at the open mouth. For a second or two I gaped at it then bolted, fleeing the restroom and the park on Pitt Street.

I curled up to my side, relaxing into sleep...

"My God, what is this?"

I was awakened by my terrified mother entering my room and clutching my blood-streaked underwear. 

"Blood!" she shrieked. "How did you get blood down there? We'd better you to a doctor."

I bolted up, feeling stupid I had left my drawers for mom to see; it wasn't that much blood anyway, just from the tiny marks from Dickie's teeth. 

"A mosquito bit me down there," I lied. "A few times; I scratched but it opened up the wound, that's all." I looked at her, embarrassed and biting my lips.

"You sure it was a mosquito?" she said, studying me. I turned away. "I'll get you something and you put it on, don't want it to get that infected," she said and bustled away, still holding my soiled drawers. 

Moron, moron, what a stupid moron I am. I should have checked first before I left the drawers lying so openly in the bathroom. Moron is right! 

But mom came back holding a little jar; it was iodine. 

No way I was going to let her out that bitterly burning solution on me, once horrible iodine was on you, you could never forget it, that's for sure!

"Then let me see. I'm your mother; I have a right. Don't be ashamed, c'mon..."

I was angry.

How could I let her see Dickie's ugly teeth marks on me?

I surged out of bed.

"Mom, stop it, okay?" I was about to put my pants back on.

"Fine, have it your way," she said, very angry but sad also. "Don't let your mother look," and she picked up the bottle of iodine and left the room.

I morosely returned to bed but staring at my doorway. I heard mom coming back to the room. 

"Then put this on," she held out another small jar, I recognized it as Vaseline, the same medicine that Dickie had applied just a few hours ago. Mom looked at me, then turned and loudly slammed the door after her. 

I looked at the jar in my hand. I opened it and stared at the gooey, yet cooling paste. Mom had used it for colds and other illnesses. She would rub it in the chest area whenever you felt feverish or very tired. Said it protected you from falling ill.

I took a whiff of the petroleum jelly; smelled very refreshing.

I lowered my underpants and dipped my fingers into the jar, coming out with a dollop of gel.

Boy did that feel renewing!

I applied some more and smeared it all over my stiff cock and balls, tugging my drawers back on. I covered myself and slept.

Chapter 22

I bolted awake. Circles of light appeared in the covered corners of the window. On the cabinet I could see my clock, 5:45 it showed. 

So, it was dawn, the next day. I had slept through the night. I yawned, stretched, and rolled to my side, scratching my balls. I winced, then remembered the previous day. Shame and confusion poured over me.

I was now a face-creamer who was destined to become a cocksucker, according to Dickie's projection, and eventually to taking it up the ass, like a good girl should. 

I shook my head and rubbed my tense crotch, reaching for my hard penis.

God did that hurt!

I pushed the front of my drawers aside stared wide-eyed at the red-splotched cock. Spots of red shone brightly on the avid penis. 

I was a face-creamer yet someone else had bitten and gnawed my cock, namely Dickie. Still, I had let him suck me, no, wanted him sucking me! As I just nibbled on his penis, so was he damaged by my teeth as I was also by his? Were we now scarred for life by the teeth of another?

Again, I heard a thud, it was mom stirring in the other room. I sighed and sunk down into the blanket. Though it was the last week of August, morning chilliness had crept into and about the room.

Wonder if Dickie was getting ready to start his day or was he jerking-off a final time before his day begins?

And what about Shelly, how did his day begin? That minute housing project on Eleventh Street, just two or three buildings, showed that his mother was better off than mine.

And what about Pani Stetz, was she also getting up and preparing for something? How did she make her money, did she even have a job to go to?

Aw, hell, how the hell would I know...?

Anyway, I had to pee.

But mornings were mom's time, I was usually fast asleep in the dawn hours, what was I doing up anyway? Thinking of Dickie and Shelly, wasn't I?

Again, I rolled over and settled into bed. 

So Shelly was out, I was in. Shelly was already more or less sucking and swallowing. I was still just getting a face-creaming, so I was next in line. Were these the new Dickie rules? But Shelly knew what was happening, a time limit, he had almost come to his full three months. Shelly was out, I was in. Dickie sets limits on his time. Easy as pie, a snap really. But how are these rules made. Who gives permission for the rulers to rule? She's out, I'm in.

I frowned and shook my head, listening to my mom coming out of the bathroom. I jumped up and staggered to the kitchen, grumbling at my morning greetings to mom and opened the bathroom door., making sure the hook snap held the door in place.

I examined by blood-reddened penis. Good, no blood; the Vaseline had helped. I peed into the bowl, flushed, and left the bathroom.

"Why are you up so early?" asked mom, looking at me shrugging and yawning. "Did you use the Vaseline, like I told you to?"

I nodded but didn't say anything, going back to bed.

I covered myself, curled up and didn't even hear mom when she left. When I next awoke a few hours had passed me by; it was 9:15. 

I yawned and looked at my stiff dick protruding from my shorts. I pulled them off and stared at the reddened cock. I pulled the skin back, exposing the bright cockhead. 

Why does the skin go back, I wondered, and how far back does it recede?

Again, I gently nudged it. It seemed to fall willingly about the penis, as if eager to show the skin underneath. Was it meant to do that?

I shook my head. But it still hurt. Damn that Dickie, wonder if he was cursing me as well... I snorted and shook my head. 

Gotta get to the park and see what's happening there. Maybe even check out Tompkins Sqaure Library and see reading Shelly there...

The thought made me hard, yet I grinned maliciously, as I dressed and went out.

Outside it was cloudy, but I went down the street headed to the park. Before I had left the house, I had again applied the Vaseline to my cock. I liked that soothing feeling, made me feel so refreshed. 

I strolled around the park and passed the bench I sat on with Dickie the previous day. How many benches were in the park? A lot, that's for sure.   

I sauntered into the library but no Shelly. I thought of going to the block where Shelly lived, then it hit me, Pani Stetz lives there too! I had forgotten her; how could I do that? What a moron!

The first woman I had sex with, and my memories were of nothing, not even a trace remained of her; and so quickly, too.

But did I really have sex with Pani Stetz? Aw, hell, how the hell do I know?

I shook my head and looked up at her building. How could I enter that building and look for Shelly when Pani Stetz was just a floor beneath him, and probably still perturbed by her dripping faucet...And I got cum on her, so she must be pregnant...Oh, what the hell does Shelly know having babies?

I slowly climbed her stairs, thinking I shouldn't, but almost immediately it was opened and Pani Stetz, in some surprise, stood blinking and looking at me.

"Well, there you are," she said. "Whatever happened to you yesterday? You disappeared, and so suddenly, too."

But her look wasn't that of accusing rage but of teasing playfulness. She stood right by me and placed her hand at the back of my neck, running her fingers teasingly in my hair.

"Naughty boy," she giggled. "A nice, naughty boy..."

I turned red, looking down, but she continued stroking my hair.

"I was scared," I answered, very red-faced. "And ashamed...you know..."

"Know what, from what you did? Oh, big deal, it's only natural...Boys and girls --it happens all the time."

I looked at her. Was she that dumb and naive not to where babies come from? But maybe she didn't care? She seemed like a playful woman...

"Oh, lordie, lordie," she said, looking at her wristwatch and clutching her tan purse. She stepped out of her door and led me downstairs, all the while holding my arm. 

"Have to go out," she said, looking at me, "but come back later, around three or four, if you can? Oh, and say hello to your lovely mother, haven't seen her in some time, an adorable woman. How is she?" And she squeezed my hand, blew me a kiss and rapidly walked away on Eleventh Street to Second Avenue, her flowered dress swaying so teasingly behinds her. 

I stood and watched her receding in the distance, turning the corner and vanishing.

She isn't mad at all! Now where did I get such a stupid idea she was. As a matter of fact, she likes me! Damn Shelly, the moron bastard, doesn't know shit...

And just at that moment the front door opened and out came Shelly, snorting, with his hands in his pockets.

"Hah, why are you always around here," he said, "you know where Freddie lives, or have you forgotten? Go to him," he snidely added, "he'll teach how to suck and swallow."

I shook my head. "Wasn't looking for him, but Pani Stetz." I glared at him, inserting my own hands in my pockets just as he was doing.

"What do you want with her? She hates queer boys like you."

I got mad. "I'm not a queer. I don't suck and swallow. I know you do."

He smirked and shook his head. "What a loser? Can't even admit...he's a queer..." He looked at me and repeated, "Queer...sissy...faggot...that's what you are, a sissy faggot. Still just learning how to blow, hah!" He boldly looked at me. "Well, I know how to, and swallow, too. You don't even know how to give a good sucking. You're not a sissy but a wimp!"

I bitterly stared at him then suddenly swung at his face but he quicky turned and ducked, swinging at me and landing a blow to my temple which rocked the eyes in my head. I went slightly down, but holding my hands, I looked up at him. An expression of hateful superiority covered his face; I was certain I was reading contemptuous hatred in his eyes.

"Faggot," he hissed, as suddenly his mother came out of the building and saw me somewhat doubled down. 

"Shelle, my baby," she blurted, without looking at me, "what happened?"

"That boy's very fresh," he answered. "Makes up all kind of stories about us; they should keep people like that in their own neighborhoods with other useless poor people and not come into our better off neighborhoods."

What was he talking about, I only lived five blocks away from him?

"Now, now, Shelly," she said, taking him by the arm, "Be a nice boy, people have to live, it's not his fault his divorced parents never had that much money," she said, looking accusingly at me. And she turned and led Shelly up the street, when he looked back and stuck out his tongue; I gave him the finger.

I rubbed my temple and headed to Second Avenue, the same avenue where Pani Stetz had disappeared on. Did I think I'd accidently run into her outdoors? I grinned and walked a few blocks uptown, entering the tree lined Second Avenue Park, placed on both sides of Second Avenue from Fifteen Street to Seventeen Street, a relaxing reprieve from the hospitals that skirted about it.

I took a seat on a bench by the center water fountain. Not many people on this cloudy, overcast day and the water shooting up seemed forlorn and solitary, as if it knew it wasn't pleasing anyone. 

No one was around and I turned to look behind me. Then I saw a man smoking and headed in my direction. I turned red and looked back. There was something familiar about the man's lazy walk, not that I knew him, but he walked in that same carefree way that Dickie had, as if in walking he was seeking, probing, looking for something that could be his but was still out of reach.

I blushed as I knew right away that he was a queer sissy, much like Shelly, definitely like Dickie, and certainly a mimic of me.

The man flicked his cigarette away, turned and entered the area around the water fountain, looking right at me but still undecided whether to approach me or not. I made a move and rubbed my crotch, as if I had an itch there. 

His eyes widened and he approached, taking a seat on my bench but also rubbing his own crotch, which I'm sure, was hard, too.

He reached in his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Would you like one?" he daintily asked, holding out the pack with a few cigarettes sticking out, clearly menthol.

I hardly ever smoked, just a puff here or there, but shrugged and said, "Sure..." moving along the bench to sit closer. I retrieved a cigarette from his pack and stuck in my mouth. He lit a match and held it out to me. I grimaced but dipped my head to the burning flame and sucked in smoke.  

The sensation was weird. I had never had menthol. I choked, coughed and gagged, letting go of the burning cigarette and coughed up some more.  

"Are you alright?" he nervously asked, darting his eyes about the empty benches if anyone was looking. He shook his head "You shouldn't be smoking if you're not used to it." Once again, he looked around. "How old are you anyway?"

"Seventeen," I breathed out without thinking.

"Seventeen, eh?" he snorted. "Kinda young, aren't you? Oh, you're still a kid," he again looked around, "probably never had a ciggie much less a cock. Have you?"

I turned red, slightly still coughing. "Yes, I have, but not a menthol ciggie," I looked at him, "I do a lot of face-creaming.

And I said it proudly, eyeing and looking directly at him. For second or two our eyes held each other but he glanced at my spat-out cigarette still burning uselessly on the ground. He reached down and picked it up, his face mere inches from my crotch. 

"Face-creaming, eh?" he said, straightening up. He flicked the ember off the cigarette and reinserted it in his pack for later use. "I really don't know what that means, though I think I do, but I must say, it sounds very appetizing."

We looked at each other, no, lusted after the other...

"Listen," he said quietly but also looking about, "I'm going to the bathroom," he gestured to the restrooms at the corner on Fifteenth Street. "If you want, you wait a bit then come after me and show me what your mouth can do, eh? You look like you might be a great cocksucker."

"I don't suck cock," I fiercely shook my head. "You just shoot your scum on my face, then watch it dribble down." I shut my eyes, then opened them. "Love that feeling..."

He looked at me, licking his lips. "Fascinating indeed, but highly interesting, too. Okay, I'll meet you there." He patted my leg and thigh, winked and walked along the trail to the restroom. 

I waited, clearing my throat a few times, and saw him stepping in the doorway, nodding in my direction, then disappearing inside. I quickly followed.

The restroom was dimly lit but I saw him standing at one of the urinals, obviously pretending to pee. I unzipped as I came up to him, pulling my erect dick out.

"What the hell," he gulped, staring down at my cock. "What happened to your prick?"

I looked at my damaged muscle. "I was bit too hard," I shrugged. "The guy I was with yesterday. He kept biting and biting..."

He shook his head and reinserted his penis. "Sorry kiddo, I can't do you, not for me. Too gross," he said, and went to the door.

"Creep," I muttered at him. He turned back, shaking his head.

"Just a faggot kid," he said, and lit a cigarette; I saw it was the one I had dropped to the ground. "Faggot kid," he muttered again, shaking his head and walking out, slamming the door after him.

I stood at the urinal, hearing the footsteps up the trail. I angrily jerk-off, but when I came, the wounds on my dick kept biting and burning. 

More to come on the upper right...or you can read the eBook now, click here:

THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions