Times Queer by Mykola Dementiuk

Times Queer

by

Mick Mykola Dementiuk

It's really a guy/girl story, nothing more...

Introduction

Let me introduce you to Richard Kozlovsky, who,

like author Mykola Dementiuk, migrated to New

York as a child in the 1950s. Like many immigrants

to America, he lived on the Lower East Side of

Manhattan. His introduction to sex started early

-six or seven- and continued with the girlie shows

and pornography in Times Square. Along with a

strict Catholic upbringing he had parents who were

too busy trying to scrape out a living to watch their

children closely, and Richard found his own ways 

to make ends meet. Let the voyeur in you follow

Richard during his difficult coming-of-age years.

Sally Miller-publisher/editor

Synergy Press

January 2006

1. Girls

The girls are gathering for Ricky Martin. High school girls, but big-titted. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen-year-old adolescent beauties. Carrying placards and screaming, “Ricky! Ricky! Ricky!”

I am standing across the street and take a careful look around. No one is eyeing me. I grab my crotch and give myself a good squeeze. Oh boy! That only makes it worse. My cock is like a brick and the girls are shaking and screaming. “Ricky! Ricky! Ricky!

I want to rip my cock out start jerking off in front of them. But I slink back and go off frustrated, morose, dejected. The hard-on lasts for only a minute anyway.

Behind me the screams go on. Wasn't Madonna here yesterday? Or 'N Sync? The Bad Boys? Britney Spears? Wow!

Whoever it was must have been some sight for the pretty big-titted girls. Some sight for me to look at, too – a girl raises her sign up, so that from the MTV studios above, Ricky can see her braless tits rising up like they are oranges meant for a feel or suck.

I play with my zipper, desperate to pull it down. Christ! Ma Vida Loca! My Crazy Life! Gotta get outta here! Incredible that they can be so young and innocent. A girl in a pink blouse jerks her sign even higher, like she could reach the MTV jockey who smiles down at her, getting a good look at her before he gets a good feel.

Shit! I stagger over to Bryant Park and sit down on one of the collapsible seats. It's nice being here, in back of the public library. Where we robbed a guy. The thought stays in my head, whether I like it or not. Where we robbed a guy.

But is that the way it happened? Would've been easy if it was, but it wasn't. It was something like that, but the buildings were a lot smaller, the people were in less of a hurry, life seemed a little less rushed.

2. Times Queer

It was always known to me as Times Queer. Where else could you get blown or jerked off at 4am, or 2pm, or midnight, or whatever time of the day it was? The Queer wasn't a state of mind, but an actual location, 42 ^nd Street and Broadway, one that came to be synonymous with hidden sex. Hidden because it was done in secret. In the shadows, in movie seats, in balconies, in bliss.

It must have been forty, fifty years earlier, I was a little kid and traveling on the subway with my parents. The train was packed with people like us, going uptown. We got on at 14^th Street to a crowd of happy Sunday people.

Not wanting to be in the confines of my parents, I snuck over to the end of the car, where the doors were open and a wind of black tunnels poured in. Unlike when we traveled to Coney Island, there wasn't to see, just lights, shadows, and glimpses of other people in the next car.

On 34^th Street a person got up, leaving a seat. There being no one around I took it. A man was sitting there but made a move to give me room. Sitting next to him, I felt a hand slide up my thigh and circle round my crotch. I remained still but my crotch grew hard. He began to fumble with my zipper, using his other hand to hold my flap open, and he inserted his hand. But he fumbled again trying to find the underwear flap.

I didn't know what was going on. At the age of seven there's little you can think of except following elders.

Suddenly the train pulled into Times Square and the man let me go and stood up. For a moment I thought of standing up, too, but I remained sitting and watched him go. He walked firmly, like he owned the world and had done nothing wrong.

The doors closed and I slunk back to my parents, ashamed of something, but I wasn't sure what. My father was joking with my mother, laughing at the people in the station passing by.

“Times Queer,” he laughed. “That's what they should call this place, Times Queer!”

I felt very embarrassed but glad this place had a name. I was determined to come back.

3. Movies

We are going to the movies on Broadway, something most of the class had not done before. It was our first trip uptown, so we were very excited and happy, but in some ways, it was also a nervous time. A few guys joked about the “nellies that will get you, if you don't watch out,” but I just smiled and pretended to laugh it off.

“Nellie, I joked, “scratch the belly!” I raised my voice to a high-pitched yell which got off the girls who laughed hysterically.

“Oh Ricky,” one of them laughed. “You sound just like a Nellie!” I joined in the laughter until the teacher angrily walked back toward us.

“What's going on here!?” the nun screamed, spotting me. “Richard Kozlovsky, what did you do now!?”

I stood there cowering, weakened and shamed by her screams, like I was the one who deserved her wrath.

“I can't take you anywhere!” she screamed, grabbing me painfully by the hair. “Stand still!” she shouted at my frenetic jerks, as she forcefully pulled my hair at the skull. “You hear me? I said, 'stand still!'”

I began to cry shamefully, the eyes of the kids boring into me as if they would attack.

“Stand still!” the nun repeated to me, “Will you stand still?!”

All the kids gathered around us but the nun held onto my hair as if that was preventing her from letting me go.

“You're disgusting!” she finally screamed, and pushed me away from her. “Disgusting boy. I can't let you go anywhere! You'll just have to wait outside for us!”

With that she bustled the kids into the movie theater with stern looks from the passers by. I sheepishly followed, thinking I could get in that way, but the nun saw me and yelled out, “I thought I told you 'No!' Stay here, where you belong!” She continued to escort the kids in and she held a conversation with the ticket-taker, who was as ugly as the nun. Through my tears I saw them and hated them, would hate them forever.

“It'll be all right, Sister,” I could hear the ticket-taker say. “We don't fool around.”

With that the nun was gone after my classmates, and I was left all alone with the ticket-taker who seemed to be unconcerned with me. As a matter of fact, I noticed, he paid me no mind, for which I was very grateful.

I walked around the lobby, taking in the soda machines and movie posters, one with Marilyn Monroe wearing a baby top and looking as seductive as ever. As usual, I got a hard-on which would make me piss, like it did in the morning, or so I thought.

With the ticket-taker ignoring me, I stepped to the side and went into the men's room. I knew it best to keep the image of Marilyn in my mind and enjoy it when I heard the door opening. Quickly I moved to the urinal to cover myself. My dick was still hard. I hoped the man wouldn't stay long so I could get back to looking at it and imagining Marilyn.

Suddenly he began to touch me. I froze, and pressed myself closer to the urinal walls. But he kept on, forcing an opening between us for his hand to reach in and feel me. My little prick was big and hard; I didn't know what he would do with it.

He circled his fingers round my cock and gently began an up and down motion. It was bliss; I felt myself melting and not caring what was to happen. He began to stroke my cock a little faster. I felt myself melt a little more with innocent expectation. Suddenly the euphoria gripped me, like something was exploding inside me. My cares melted away. Still, in this ecstasy, I felt the man let go of me, heard the bathroom opening and closing, and stood there all alone, not caring if I stood there forever.

It was the first time I had come and I felt totally new, like I was some new baby or new boy destined for bigger and better things. Now I couldn't wait for the traitorous classmates so I could rejoin them and go home, where I could alone. Now I knew what had to be done with my prick, and it wasn't solely to take a piss. I could play with it, too.

4. Idiot

Once I knew what to do with my prick that's all I did. I masturbated six, seven, eight times a day and a few times after I went to sleep, still clutching my cock like it was a protective talisman. And it felt good, like I was born to do it, because what else was I to do? I had no idea....

A couple of years went by and still I masturbated, but I was getting bolder, following girls and whipping it out. But of course, I never got anything, just them shaking their heads in disgust and loathing.

“You're disgusting!” they would scream, and go off on their own. “Leave me alone! You're sick!' a few of them squealed, and joined other girls to condemn and ridicule my actions. I suppose it made me sore solitary, more uncaring, but the girls were pretty, each one of them getting little breasts that I would give anything to place my hard-on cock next to. Yum yum. Rub it next to those little breasts. Wow!

So from an early age I was left alone. The kids left me alone and I left them alone, not pushing into games and avoiding all school activities, or as much as I could, until I was forgotten, like someone in the wings, making little noise, practically not being there. Just a big void. It was great being a masturbating idiot; they fled from me and I went after them with my cock out, and never got a thing.

5. Library

One day several years later my class took a field trip to the New York Public Library, on 5^th Avenue and 42^nd Street. Soon we'd be ending our 8^th grade school education, and it would be time to start our high school learning. The library was a good place to begin. Most of the kids, even I, already considered themselves as grownups, and certainly acted the part, like expecting the girls to put out, as if we knew what that meant. So when we wandered through the library, already some guys were pairing off with the girls and disappearing down solitary stacks.

But not me. As usual I was placed in front, where the teacher could keep me in sight and see if I was up to no good. I didn't care. She had me stuck with Joey Milan and Billy Kropnick, two guys, like me, who always got into trouble and were trouble. They had this secret laugh, secret handshake, secret nodding at each other that wouldn't allow anyone else in. I really didn't know what I was supposed to do with them, or they with me.

The librarian led the class around the stacks, the reference library, the reading rooms, and, for some strange reason, the coat rooms. I suppose she expected us to visit in the winter and that would've been a good place to know. We shuffled after her, pretending to be interested until out teacher met us outside the library and dismissed us, saying we could go home. Most of the girls stuck together but the boys went off on their own. I stayed with Billy and Joey, who weren't bad guys, just weird. We decided to walk and found ourselves headed into the park in back of the library.

Bryant Park wasn't a real park, there weren't any swings or slides for children, just seats and path that led you back to where you started, or else led you out of the park. The amazing thing was the giant buildings around the park, like they were going to cave in to the free space of greenery.

We moved around the park, Billy and Joey looking very alert, as if they were expecting something to happen. Suddenly, Billy said to Joey, “There's our guy.” He gestured to a man who was walking very slowly amongst the benches. To a kid who didn't know any better he was an old guy, probably a business man taking a slow walk. I had no idea why he was walking like that when Billy said to Joey, “Are you ready?”

Joey just shrugged and said, “No sweat.” He left us, walking quickly to catch up with the man, then slowly to get the man abreast. Me and Billy walked after him, watching as he paused and asked the man for a cigarette. The man gave him one.

“Good,” said Billy. “The fool is giving himself away.”

I looked at Billy, puzzled by what was going on, until Billy told me. “Any minute now they'll go together. That's where we come in. The old guy will try and give Joey a blowjob, but when he does, we take his money. Then we get the hell out of there. Kapesh?”

Billy smirked at me. “Come on!”

We hurried up the path, the library building towering in back of us, when we saw Joey, standing while the guy was kneeling and looking up at him. The guy was pulling down his zipper when Billy said, “Having a good time, faggot?”

The guy froze but kept looking at Joey, as if pleading for mercy.

“Oh, Lord,” he whimpered, “Please don't hurt me.”

“We ain't gonna hurt you,” added Joey, “We just want a little fun.”

The guy looked unbelievably at Joey. “You too?”

“C'mon, fork it over,” ordered Billy. “Hurry up.”

We made forty dollars that time, splitting evenly, or as best we could, an easy theft for my first faggot robbery, but there were more to come.

                                     6. Joey

Months went by and I graduated eight grade, thrilled to be out of that hell-hole and into a new school. Joey and Billy graduated too, but they passed Catholic high school examinations and would be together in a Catholic high school. It was a downer to be left out. Was I a loser?

On same days after school I used to meet Joey and Billy in front of their houses and go wherever they were going. One day Joey showed up all flustered and mad. I got it out of him that he had been put down by Mary, a jerk-off dream that a lot of guys in school hungered after. From what I knew, she never gave it to anyone.

The thing about Mary was her tits. Gargantuan ones, immense, huge, like a bimbo! All I wanted was my hands on them. I could just imagine the nipples on those things.

I was getting a hard-on from Joey's anger but when he ran up the stairs, I followed. I kept thinking about Mary's breasts, which were overblown, years in advance of other girls

who had little lumps. Mary had full grown woman's tits.

In his house Joey immediately fell on the couch, rubbing his crotch and breathing heavily. His parents were out, that was a good thing.

“The bitch!” he said, each time giving himself a rough squeeze. “The bitch! Fucking bitch!”

I felt a bit uncomfortable, with him cursing and rubbing his crotch. “Yeah,” I said. “She's a whore!”

For a second Joey looked at me as if waking up. “Ever fuck her?” he asked.

“No,” I mumbled, glad that it was coming to an end. “But I'd sure like to.”

Slowly Joey unzipped his pants and reached in and pulled out his dick.

“How would you do it?” he asked, stroking his dick.

I became very uncomfortable.

“Would you take her very rough, or would you be gentle?” The stroking began a quicker rhythm.

“How would you do it?” he repeated, a bit louder and rougher. “Would you rape her?

I hesitated, then said, “I'd rape her.” In my pants I felt my own hard-on growing, thinking about Mary's body and her nice big tits. “Fuck her like crazy!” I tried to laugh, but Joey just stared and continued to masturbate. Suddenly, he stood up.

“You want it, Mary, don't you?” he whispered. “You want it bad, don't you, Mary?”

I found him on top of me, grinding his torso against mine.

“Beg, Mary,” he said heavily. “You bitch! Fuckin' bitch! Bitch!”

He had me by the arms, grinding himself against me. “Bitch! Bitch!”

Abruptly he froze and collapsed on top of me, breathing very heavily, as if trying to catch his breath. He leaped up again and laughed. “Ha! That's the way she wants it...” and hurried out.

I laid very still but then also leaped up and was out of there, Joey's cum staining my pants, wondering if I could get home in time for my own erection, caused by Joey, pretending I was Mary. Was I a faggot guy or the slut Mary?

7. Times Square

One thing I did after that was keep away from Joey. Since I attended a different school from the lot of them, it was easy. Surprisingly, Mary also attended the same school I was going to and sometimes she would smile. It was nice to see her, but she always had guys around her – each time, different guys.

That winter I discovered the area around Times Square, teeming with movie houses like a dream come true, and if they let me in, great. If they didn't, I just kept walking to a new movie house, because for a kid what wasn't new?

Times Square was great because it didn't matter if you went to a girlie theater or not, the prospects for hand-jobs were astronomically great. It seemed the most natural thing in the world: you sat down, within minutes someone sat next to you and his hand went to your crotch.

If you were smart you'd let the guy have a full feel, which would immediately afterwards cause you to come. Bliss! Then the guy would leave you alone.... How many shadows of guys did I watch go past? In my lifetime, probably hundreds or thousands.

But that was later. My first time in Times Square I was wary, and alert. In other words, a real coward.

Luckily that day, though it was especially cold, I got in the first movie theater I tried. It was packed, people sitting next to other people, not a seat in sight. It was a cowboy movie. Though I preferred war movies, I would take anything as long as I was inside. I stood, getting my eyes used to the darkness, when all of a sudden a man stood next to me. Without a word, I felt a touch on my crotch. Almost instantaneously I had a massive hard-on, one like I'd never had before. The movie, the surroundings, the heat, the cold, it didn't matter. It was like heaven, just getting my cock stroked. Within seconds, I shot my load.! Ecstasy! Euphoria! Bliss!

I opened my eyes; the guy was gone. I stood there, feeling like dropping, but instead I turned and made my way to the bathroom. I saw it, a large wet stain in my crotch. Quickly I made my way to a john and closed the door.

“Damn! Maroon pants!” What was a tough-boy look on the Lower East Side was a wimpy fairy stance in Times Square. That's probably why I was groped so openly, and would be again. A wonder I didn't get gang-banged, or was that something I was hoping for.

I was there for a while in the bathroom, hearing people come and go, and me, slowly drying. At one point the guy who pawed me stuck his head over the partition, but I cursed him and he ran out. My most disgusting time being there was the slow shitters – crying, panting, gasping until their shit tore out of them. Phew! What a relief! They'd wipe up and smilingly go out of there, splashing water and whistling. Enjoy the movie, you disgusting shit-headed bastard, I thought.

After about two hours I was certain that the pants had dried. I passed a few people but they didn't look at me so I was certain of it. I left the theater, making my way down a crowded 42^nd Street. On Broadway I turned red, cause there was Mary, from school, whom I hadn't seen in a couple of weeks because of my own class-cutting. She was with a guy, one of the many boyfriends she had, and they were both looking and laughing at me. I kept walking, my face as red as my maroon pants, brownish colored with a tint of red. Perfect for 42^nd Street, I thought, shame tearing through me.

8. Mary

I went to school a couple of weeks later because the truant officer was after me, and I saw Mary, her tits as attention-getting as ever. No wonder she had so many guys around her. I stared, too. When she came in, most of the guys came in after her. Figures, I thought. She has them on an invisible leash, like good little dogs, waiting for their treats. I frowned and smirked. I know what they'll be getting. Or at least trying to get.

Most of the kids just stared at me but Mary smiled a knowing smile. After class she came up to me before I could get away.

“Ricky! Long time no see!” she laughed. “How you been?”

I was surprised, but shrugged, “Okay, I been busy.” I figured that would be it and I could get away from her and her boyfriends.

She frowned and put her arm through mine.

“C'mon! Don't be like that, give me a kiss.” She put her head next to mine and waited to be kissed.

I blushed, surprised by her actions, then lowered my head and kissed her. It felt delicious, like I was kissing to girl of my dreams (which I was).

She was smiling and held on to me. “That's better.”

I could feel her breast pressing against my arm and could imagine the hardness of her nipple.

“Let's go. I'm cutting the next class, are you?”

I shook my head. “I can't. I gotta see the truant officer.”

She frowned. “Please,” she said, in a little girl's voice. “Pretty please.”

I shook my head again.

Suddenly she turned on me. “Go fuck yourself, you faggot!” With that she rejoined her laughing boyfriends giving cat-calls and hooting in laughter. I was very embarrassed and my face turned red. Mary said something to the guys who laughed and started chanting “Times Queer! Times Queer!” I staggered to the truant officer, feeling like an idiot, hating everyone and Mary most of all.

9. Bryant Park

I didn't stay long in school after that, probably a few months. I dropped out when I was sixteen, ecstatic I'd be gone and on my own. The exact same day I quit school was also my sixteen birthday, so I went to Times Square where I could get laid. I had never been laid, but I thought my chances were good. Unfortunately there was one of those crack-downs on kids getting into movie houses and up to no good. I wandered around for a bit, trying ticket-takers here and there, but no luck, they were really cracking down. Just my luck, I thought, on my birthday! Shit, of all days!

Somehow, I found myself wandering into Bryant Park. I kept my head down in case I was spotted by the guy we had robbed. It was still light, with a brisk wind blowing. I sat down a few times but the wind kept me going until I came to the monument around which we robbed a guy. Probably a teacher, I thought, ha ha! A teacher from the 1800's. Easy pickings, we thought then, and so it was.

There weren't many people around, just a few guys walking along the walking path like they knew where they were going. The statue faced the park but there was a path behind it. I decided to take my changes.

As I suspected, a man quickly followed after me. I smiled to myself. This will be real easy, better than it was when I was with Joey or Billy. He was an older guy but dressed like it was a weekend, in jeans and heavy shirt. His lips were wet and he had a hungry expression about him.

“Got a cigarette, Mack?” I asked.

He looked at me with a frown but reached in his denim jacket and pulled out a pack of Luckies, or Lucky Strike. I almost winced from looking at them but bent down and took a cigarette, almost gagging when I took the first puff. They were strong and, I thought, very vile.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking around as if he was about to go.

I coughed a few times more, but said “I'm OK,” putting my hand in my pocket and pretending I was holding a weapon.

“Stick 'em up!” I growled, feeling a bit ridiculous at disguising my hand in my pocket like a gun. “Come on!”

The guy looked at me very mad, his lips so tight that little lines formed around them. Suddenly he had a knife and it was pointing to my throat.

Boy, was he fast! With one hand he went through my pocket. There was no gun or knife there.

“Motherfucker!” he cursed. “Goddamned motherfucker!”

But I'm sure that secretly he breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have a gun.

The knife was leveled to my skull and he said, “On your knees, motherfucker.”

“I was only kidding,” I whimpered, but he grabbed my jacket and pushed m down.

“Kidding?” he said, “You motherfucker, you weren't kidding.” He lowered his zipper and pulled out his cock, hard and ugly, “Now suck!”

Oh Christ, he was just a couple of inches from my mouth! If I could get up and run...but he held the knife tighter to my head.

“Suck, motherfucker!”

I closed my eyes and thought of Mary and her big tits, nice cuddly delicious, yummy. I could suck them for hours, suck them dry until there was nothing left of them...But I'm not sucking Mary's huge tits, no matter how delicious, I'm sucking a cock!...

The amazing thing about them was how Mary put them in her blouse without ripping it to shreds, but she did and I would love to get my lips on them...Around them, the way my lips are around a cock!...

Tits that were big, with nipples also big, I could suck those sweet nipples for hours....But of course I'm not doing that, I'm sucking cock, a huge cock is in my mouth, plunging deeper and deeper with each thrust until his hands are around my head, pulling on my hair until my mouth is flooded with a dewy scent that smells like freshness I want to put on.

I suddenly felt very tired and exhausted, all spent. My eyes opened and I watched the guy hurry away while in the corner of my eyes I saw another masturbating and looking at me. That's when the vomit hit me. Bou'ah! Bou'ah! Bou'ah! I was on my knees but felt I was on my back like a whore spreading for anyone, all covered in scum.

10. Girls

Another group of girls is streaming into Times Square, virginal, adolescent, beautiful. They're late, and walk hurried, like they're rushed for time or their period is coming and they better hurry up and get their Kotex. Aw, man, good thing I'm some distance or else I'd have them one by one, tit after tit, nipple after nipple....I watch them go past, don't even get a hard-on.

11. Madison Square Park

I didn't return to Times Square for more than a year. I got a job as a messenger delivering envelopes packages around town. It wasn't a bad job but that's all I did. I'd leave home early and come home late. On weekends I'd sleep as if I was waiting for something.

One day I was walking through a quiet, windy Madison Square Park, having just delivered packages to the Toy Center. I had done it before but never stopped to pause and take a good look around. The park was quiet, and the spring wind had a chill in it as I hurried along. On 23^rd Street I saw a guy coming up the stairs from the closed and shuttered Men's Room. He saw me and looked embarrassed, turning red, but then laughed and said, “She was good! The best fuck and blowjob I've had in a longtime.” With that he was gone, disappearing along the path that led from the bathroom.

I looked around. There were a few people but they hurried from work. In the shadows I saw someone down there, making motions to me. I headed down. But as I got nearer to the light I kind pulled back. There was a kid with his pants pulled down and holding his cock. He looked pleadingly at me, his mouth open and his tongue rubbing along his lips. It was Joey, who I hadn't seen in over a year, but he didn't recognize me without my school tie. I was surprised he was giving head.

He turned his back to me saying, “Fuck me. Give it to me good and hard! Please.”

I almost rammed Joey, giving it to him the way he wanted it, but something disgusted me and I turned and headed back up as he headed down. the stairs. A guy stood up there, looking surprised as I came up, then shrugged and started pulling down his zipper as he headed down. I walked hurriedly away from Joey, wondering how far he had sunk. As low as he could go, I thought.

12. Party Girl

I hurried out of the Bryant movie house after a girl who smiled at me as she walked past. I had been there for a few hours, getting blowjobs that were exhausting me, but seeing her walk by sparked a new interest and hardness in me. She was a dowdy looking broad, longish skirt and plain white blouse, but her smile stirred me up.

On Broadway she crossed the street and walked on the north side where more porno theaters were, about three in a row. She seemed to pause as if reading the description for Party Girls, a soft porn film. I came and stood beside her, also looking at the stills, but giving her a good look. Wasted, for sure, looks like a few days since she changed her clothes. I frowned, wondered what her underwear looked like.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Got another cigarette?”

I hesitated a moment, then shrugged and offered her one from a nearly empty pack. As she bent over to take a light, I saw streaks blonde hair now covered by her brunette strands. I began to wonder what other surprises she had.

I noticed a guy, not too far from us, looking hungrily at us. She lifted her head and said thanks, continuing to look at the movie stills.

“Nice pictures,” I said and smiled, one eye on the guy who was coming closer.

“This one's real nice,” she laughed, eyeing me up and down. “A real winner!”

Nice picture, I thought, enough to give me a hard-on. A girl dressed in nylons, panties and bra sitting and looking up at a guy. He was pulling down his zipper.

I looked around. The guy was directly behind us, as if he was about to say something. We both looked at him, then shrugged. He turned red and hurried off, but he kept looking at me and there was a tinge of hatred about him. I shrugged it off and concentrated on the woman.

“That's one I'd like to see,” she said, looking at me questioningly. Was I going to offer the price of admission? Was she going to offer me a blowjob? Shit! I cursed, feeling the last quarter dipping against the pants leg of my pocket. I could feel the guy staring at us. Fucking old geezer! From the distance I could read the price of admission – $1.25 – and cursed again.

“Wanna see it?” I asked, for want of a better thing to say, my eyes on the old guy nearby.

She brightened and avidly nodded her head. “Oh, yes! Can we go? Please?”

I felt some remorse but shrugged and said, “I just came out of one, it wasn't too good. Soft core crap.” I could see her face fall with disappointment. The old guy was moving away but looking back at us. I shrugged and nodded, saying, “See you.” I turned and didn't bother looking back at her. I walked to the old guy nearby.

“For ten bucks you can fuck the broad,” I said quietly.

I stood away from the lady but the old guy hesitated. “I'll give her the money,” he said.

I shook my head. “That's not the deal. You want her or not?”

I turned back. The lady was still by the movie stills, looking as frumpy as ever.

“Here,” I heard behind me. I smiled and turned back to the guy. “She's all mine?”

“All yours,” I said, pocketing the money and amazed at how easy it was. “Take her. Have a good lay.” I smiled.

The old guy was staring at the lady and I took off, disappearing down 42^nd Street. I turned the corner on 8^th Avenue and faded into the crowd around the Port Authority building. As I walked I pulled out the bills, expecting an easy ten for a fuck, but found only for dollars. Shit! The guy ripped me off! I was pissed, then I shrugged and laughed. It still was the easiest money I ever made, and I'm sure, more than what she was worth. I laughed again.

13. Billy

About a week later I decided not to go into the Bryant movie house since they were showing the same film, We, A Family, over and over, until I got bored of it, a hard core flick of sons and daughters and fathers and mothers all fucking each other. New films were coming into Times Square and people were packing in like crazy.

Instead I strolled over to Bryant Park, a half block away. It was crowded with people, but a few people went behind the statue where the robbery took place. I just walked around, enjoying the warm day, when I saw her, the lady who wanted to go to the movies. I tried to hide my face but she saw me and instantly said, “Hey, I know you, Billy? Right?” There was no anger, just a smile of recognition.

“Hey,” I simply said back, about to go away when she moved on the bench, making room for me. I had no alternative but to sit down, taking a good look at her. Same clothes – a longish black skirt and white blouse. Same hairdo – a bouffant with curls in the back. Same set-up? I sat down. Billy, I thought. That will be my new name. Billy.

“How ya been, doll?” I asked. “And tricks in store?” I smiled at her but she looked thoughtful, like she was trying to remember something.

I wanted to run when she said, “Hey, you're the motherfucker that ripped me off!” There was no real rage, just a lifting of her voice, like it had happened before. “Bastard! How much did you get?”

I kind of relaxed, but was wary of her. “Five,” I said, feeling kind of stupid for getting only four.

“Five!” she squealed, “Five! He told me he gave you a twenty!”

I shook my head. “No, it was only five.”

“Shit!” she said. “For five bucks I had to fuck him twice and give him two blow jobs! Shit, you're a cheapskate!”

I kind of blushed, like it was my fault that she got fucked for so cheap, but I felt a hard-on growing. I had never had a girl and this one, a grown woman, was talking about giving it away. I took a look at her and wondered again what kind of underwear she had on.

“Got any cigarettes?” she asked. I flipped open my jacket and reached in for a pack. She greedily took one.

That's how she'll be holding my dick, I thought, but not with her fingers, with her full hand. I made no pretense at hiding the bulge that was forming in my lap, and as I wanted, she saw it. Her movements got a whole lot slower, the puffs on her cigarette got deeper, like she was panting for air. She looked around her, then moved slightly closer.

“Is daddy happy to see his little girl?” she said, in a little girl's voice that got me even harder.

“Only if she's been good.” I desperately wanted my dick out and knew that soon would be. “And not naughty.”

She smiled, and bent down closer to my crotch. We were only a few inches apart. I thought her hands would touch me but she straightened up.

“Wanna go to my...apartment?” she asked, her eyes pleading.

This was real easy, an old bitch but hot as hell.

“Sure, OK,” I said, as if I was unconcerned. I couldn't wait to get there.

She got up and I quickly followed. For a moment, my hard-on felt like it was in the way, but I didn't care. It only grew harder. It was obvious what it was. We took a few steps and I felt her arm go round me so I put my arm around her. This was going to be a fantastic fucking. I couldn't wait.

We walked past the Bryant movie house – I didn't even look to see who was going in or coming out – past the theater where I saw her looking at the pictures, past the Port Authority building where I counted her money and found I was getting ripped off. Where are we going? I wondered.

On 10^th Avenue the buildings got a whole lot seedier. Entire buildings were boarded up for demolition, vacant and run down. She slowed her pace, looking around her, and let go of me.

“This way,” she said nervously, biting her lower lip. By then I felt my hard-on go away with no more stimulation. I thought of taking off when she turned and tenderly grabbed my crotch. “Just a little further,” she said. In a split second my hard-on was back, throbbing as hungrily as ever. I knew I would follow her anywhere.

She came to a shuttered doorway, slightly lifting the door and holding it out for me. I entered and she quickly followed into the smelly darkness. “This way,” she said again. I waited until my eyes got used to the darkness, then followed her.

Some apartment, I thought, but knew that I would go through with it. Up the stairs we went, my hand on her, pawing her legs and ass. As we went up she fiddled with her skirt, pulling it higher round her. I saw she was wearing nylons and a garter belt. That drove me crazy. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my hungry cock. We came to what looked like the top floor, and she led me into her apartment. I smiled, and pulled her down to the floor.

Just the feel of her and knowing she wore nylons and garter belt was as good as getting me off. Jesus Christ! Like a Times Square porno dream, that's what was happening. I felt that familiar explosion on her, the closing of the eyes, the desperate holding, the spewing of cum that melted all cares. The thing wrong was that I wasn't in her, I came all over her panties. Shit! I collapsed and held her. I could just imagine her frustration. Probably mad as hell, I thought, pushing my head up.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

She slightly pushed me up and held me. “What's wrong?”

I lowered my head. She doesn't know a thing, I thought, and continued kissing and feeling her up. I finally pulled her panties down, not letting her go but keeping my lips glued to her. I was as stiff as if I had not come just moments before. With my hand I found her wet cunt and moved my cock to it.

I felt it go in easily, like I was entering a well used room. She wrapped her legs around me and that's what I concentrated on. I thought of luscious legs around me, high-heeled legs, with a perky ass hungry for my touch. Again I froze and spasmed, my penis letting go of jism deep into her. It was delicious, like I was the king of the world. I collapsed atop her, thinking of how I should get out of there. Man, was she ugly!

I pushed myself up and pulled my pants on. She lay there, looking like a Times Square horny dream girl: panties around one leg, nylons and garter belt, her blouse still covering her tits. I knew I'd better say something.

“Thanks,” I said. “That was a good one.” I lit two cigarettes and handed one to her.

“Don't go,” she whimpered, taking the cigarette. “Please.”

I looked towards the glassless windows. The sky was getting dark and night was coming. I could just imagine brightly lit 42^nd Street.

“OK,” I said. “Too bad we didn't get anything to drink.”

She immediately brightened up. “There's water, if you want,” she said quietly, but staring at my crotch.

“Water?” I said. “Nah, it's all right.”

Water? What the hell is she doing with water? She must live here. Wow! A real low life!

Again I was getting hard. She just lay there, breathing heavily, her pantyless and nyloned legs out spread. I moved closer to her and bent down. She looked like she was going to kiss me so I moved slightly back.

“Blow me,” I said, thinking she wouldn't do it. “Give a good sucking.”

“OK,” she immediately said and straightened out to her knees. “I love to suck.”

She fumbled with my zipper and again freed my hard dick. She immediately out her mouth around it. It was like the blowjob's I'd get at the Bryant movie house but it was the first time one had been given to me by a female. Thinking about it made me harder and hornier. A woman, wearing garters and nylons and her panty strewn down one leg. I couldn't believe my good fortune.

I could see her head moving back and forth, back and forth, her eyes on me, her hands holding the back of my knees. I knew that in a minute I would come. The tightness and tautness were there, ready to explode in freeing and rewarding bliss. I grabbed her head with both hands, her mouth open, my cock deep in her mouth. I came, my eyes shut, my fingers holding onto her ears. It was delicious, a spasm of bliss, better than I ever had. Again I plunged myself deep in her throat, but I was all spent, making only futile thrusts.

I pulled out, her mouth still open, my scum covering her lips and teeth. It was a disgusting sight. I made a dry heave and belched. She slowly began to lick her open mouth, running her tongue along the lips. I belched again, moments away from exploding in vomit. Again I belched, closing my zipper and turning away from the licking bitch. Bou'ah!

I was out of there, running down the dark stairs and making my way into the courtyard. Within moments I was back on 42^nd Street, just blocks away from the crowd. I felt good about losing my virginity but bad about the way it was done.

14. Red

Weeks later I was in Times Square, and it started to drizzle. Having no money, nothing to do and nowhere to go, I decided to walk west, to the house where I had gotten laid, then threw up from the cocksucking bitch who wanted to kiss me. That was an easy way of getting over it, calling her names, like whore, bitch, skank, instead of the woman who was a friend.

I walked past the movie houses and game arcades that always drew me in – but not now. My thoughts were on the lady who had given me a blowjob, better yet, who had also fucked me. As I got closer to 10^th Avenue, I knew something was wrong. The buildings were all boarded up and workers were erecting the bridges that line old buildings ready to be demolished.

I stopped. There was no use going on. I knew she was gone, sent packing by the workers. Or maybe she lingered around to give a blow job and make a few bucks. I turned around, not wanting to look at the demolition that soon would befall the building. I cursed my luck for being too late to find her. On my way back I noticed that several other buildings were condemned and set to be demolished. But Times Square would always be the same – sexy, dirty, and low-down, just the place for me.

Down 42^nd Street the rain increased and I stood under movie arcades to get out of it. A boisterous crowd waited with me, lots of laughter and smirking at any girls who might take refuge from the rain. One was nice, she wore a short skirt that was becoming popular. More and more women were wearing them, with the men drooling as ever. I grew hard just looking at her and her friends, but the rain let up and I started walking again.

Since I didn't have much money, I walked to the back of the Bryant movie house on 41^st Street, hoping someone had left the back entrance open. Luck was with me. Without looking around I opened the door and went in.

The first thing I heard was a panting sound, like a woman panting for air and a guy saying over and over, “You bitch! You whore!” I felt myself growing hard just from the movie sounds. I steeled myself and stepped into the theater. Without looking around I sat down, worried that the usher would see me and chase me out. On the screen a good-looking broad was getting it from a fat ugly guy who kept calling her names. That was part of it, calling women names.

I noticed someone was sitting in the row I was in, his coat draped over his knees. Shit! The guy's jerking-off! I wanted to leave in case he thought I was a faggot trying to sit close to him, when the bundle at his knees straightened up. It was a woman who had been giving him a blow-job. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her, with a red sleeveless dress and blondish/brown hair. She moved her hand to her mouth and wiped it off. The guy stood up and came toward me. Oh shit, I thought, but he said “Excuse me,” and walked around my legs and was gone. I breathed out in relief.

I looked at the girl sitting there, straightening her hairdo, and there was something oddly familiar about her, both arms raised to her head. Then it hit me, it was the cocksucker who wanted to kiss me after sucking my cock. Except for her red dress, even in the distance she looked worn out and tired. Still, I had to smile, happy that my luck was still with me.

I lit a cigarette, looking at her and certain she would ask for one, her eyes bright and hungry. But then she frowned and did a double take at me and turned away. I shrugged and stepped to the seat next to hers. “Hey...Red,” I said, “How ya been?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked her leg frantically back and forth. I took a puff of my cigarette and was about to leave when she said, “Gimme one.” I smiled and pulled out my pack. She lit up and we sat there looking at the film. The girl was bare-chested on the bed, straddling a guy who kept calling her names. You no-good bitch! Filthy whore! Her only response was a feeble, Yes! Oh, yes! It was a typical soft-core porno film: gets the crowds in but the storyless action gets them quickly out. Ha! I liked them! In my scheme of things I could watch a movie like that over and over.

“Good film?” I said to Red, for want of something better to say.

“How am I supposed to know?” she answered angrily. “I was...busy!”

Yeah, I wanted to say, sucking cock! But I didn't. Don't wanna get her off, I thought.

“Had a great ending, really funny.”

“Ha!” she snorted. “You saw it? Figures.”

I blushed slightly. Stinking bitch! I wanted to say, but the guy in the film said it for me, You sticking cock-sucking bitch! I almost burst out in a fit of laughter but slightly coughed as if I gagged on the smoke, making a mimicked sound of spitting it out. I did the best I could to disguise my laughter. And it worked.

“Hey, you OK? Hey!”

I mumbled OK, OK, a few times and coughed a few times more then slowly eased back.

“You had me worried. I thought it was one of those breathing attacks...like guys get,” she said.

“Nah,” I said. “Just too much smoke. I'm OK. Honest, Red.”

She faintly smiled. “That's my name,” she said lovingly. Red. How'd you know?”

“Just a lucky guess,” I said, and winked. “Real lucky.”

15. Nympho

I went home with her that night, to a condemned building on 41^th Street and 6^th Avenue with no water or electricity or even a bed. It was an old office building that looked as old and worn out as the jobs once performed there. Sometimes, on my way back from 42^nd Street, I passed to take a leak there, so I knew that the buildings had been out of working order for some time.

On the way I suggested we get some sandwiches but she wasn't too enthused. We settled on cupcakes and coffee. Boy, I thought, must be a real winner!

Inside the boarded-up building it was real dark, hardly any illumination from dead 41^th Street. At least it was quiet here, unlike 42^nd Street, with its mobs of people teeming around.

But Red didn't have an appetite. She sipped the coffee and once her hands were on me, prowling for my hard dick. I tried to eat my egg salad sandwich but she was stubborn, as hungry for my cock as I was for the egg salad. It didn't take her long to get her lips around my cock. I just lay back on the uncomfortable floor and let her have her way. I don't know how many times I fucked that night, probably six or seven times, not to mention the blow-jobs that eventually drained me.

Daylight was coming and I knew I had to get away from her, but how? Each time we fucked was followed by a cock-sucking that in its turn was followed by another fucking followed by.... Finally at dawn I broke from her and said, “I'm going for some coffee, all right? You want anything?”

“Coffee?” she barely said.

“Be right back,” I said, relieved I was getting out of there. She seemed to be suddenly drained, like she knew I wasn't coming back, and she just sat there on the floor.

“I said, 'I'll be right back,'” I repeated, and went past the garbage and debris and was out of there. Daylight was near, but the streets around Times Square were still going strong. I couldn't get Red out of my mind. A real nymphomaniac, and I was running away from her. Wasn't that the kind of girl I always dreamed of having? Here I was, walking away, like everything was OK. Well, it wasn't. Something was wrong. Why did I feel so low?

I was surprised to find myself on 8^th Avenue. I had walked from 6^th, past Broadway, past 7^th, and here I was on 8^th. How did I get here? I circled round and decided to hurry back to 41^st Street. But a couple were arguing in back of one of the movie houses, a black guy in green suit and green hat, a white girl in a brown and white outfit. The black guy was really loud, and the white girl had her head down, as if she had done something wrong.

“You bitch!” he said, “You still got six hours. Get back in there, now!”

“But Junior,” she pleaded, “I can't stand up any more. I'm really tired.”

He swung and slapped her, her head going back. “Inside, you stinking whore!”

I quickly walked past them, thinking, I have a girl who won't give me an argument, she'll suck cock over and over, then will do it again. Shit! I walked a lot faster, trying to hurry up.

On Broadway I saw a coffee shop and knew it would be best to get some coffee, for me and her. I stopped in to get them and hurried over to her home. But out of the corner of my eyes, across the street, I saw her walking up the stairs into Bryant Park with a guy behind her. At the top of the stairs she paused asked him for a cigarette. He gave her one and they talked for a few moments before they walked off together.

Shit! I thought, then I was relieved. I would soon be getting sleep. I opened up one coffee and drank. Ah! It was good! I smiled and shrugged, then headed toward home.

16. Red and Joey

A week later I was walking on 9^th Avenue when I saw Red coming out of the Elk Hotel, a flea-bag flop-house catering to whores and faggots, and rarely vacant. She immediately recognized me, though I had to take a double-look at her: her hair was up and a new dress was short around her, with black stockings. She was a real looker, and I had to give her a good whistle when I saw her.

“Oh, stop,” she laughed. “Nothing to look at.”

“Man, you're a real beauty!” I meant it, too.

It turned out she was going to Jersey. She had a new lover who gave her money for her love. I was a little mad, because it sounded like prostitution to me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I walked her to the Port Authority building. She was very cheerful and had nothing against me.

“When you coming back?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don't know, maybe in a week or maybe tonight. We'll see how it goes.”

I wasn't too thrilled about her going off like that but what could I do?

“You know, I came back for you but you were gone,” I said.

She looked at me, thoughtful, then smiled.

“I'll be back.” She raised her head for a kiss, then was gone to catch a bus. I looked at her climbing the bus stairs and saw the tops of her nylons where her skirt went up. That got me hard and I couldn't wait for her to come back.

I continued across 42^nd Street on my way the Bryant movie house. The back was locked so I went to the front. 99 cents would get me in to see scantily clad women giving covered up blow-jobs. Not bad, but my eyes were not for them, but to see if I could attract someone to give me a couple of bucks. That's what I'd get, a measly few dollars for letting someone suck my cock.

I took a seat next to an aisle seat I left vacant for someone to come. In less then five minutes a guy was sitting next to me, with after-shave that was really powerful. I did everything I could to keep myself from gagging. But soon his pinky was gently probing the side of my leg. I kept very still, as if I didn't feel a thing, and this emboldened him to let his fingers touch me gently. His hand was at my crotch and reaching for my zipper. I knew this would give him a bit of trouble, so I gently pushed his hand away and pulled down my zipper.

I was surprised at how hard and big my cock was – if I could suck it myself I would. But he kept tugging it like he wasn't gonna give me a blowjob. There are lots of guys who wouldn't suck, but the down side of it was no money for a handjob. Shit! Here it was, rising quickly and about to explode. Bam! Oh man, my cock! Holy shit! I closed my eyes, my face in cringing pain and pleasure. Within moments I felt at peace, not even seeing that the guy had left. Shit! I thought (though none too seriously), there goes m chance for any cash! I shrugged my cock back in my pants and went to take a piss.

At the Bryant movie house the bathrooms were upstairs and pretty small and cramped, like taking a piss in a crowded room. On the way up I passed a guy on the way down who gave me the familiar eye, but I passed him and entered the small bathroom. The first thing that hit me was the ammonia smell, very powerful and toxic, to remind me this is not the place to spend and time in. Do it and get out.

I unzipped and peed. It felt good, like the cares drifting away from me. Oh boy! Sometimes it feels great just to pee!

Suddenly I realized that someone was looking at me from the toilet cubicle next to mine, pasty faced with a strange smiling look on his face.

“Hey, Ricky,” he said, “don't you recognize me?”

Holy shit! It was Joey Milan. He opened the cubicle door and said, “C'mere, for old times sake, honey.” I zippered up as fast as I could. Joey stood with his dick exposed like I was going to take a taste. I turned.

“No, thanks,” I said, shaking my head, but he blocked my way, turning to the left and turning to the right, like it was some kind of joke.

“Gimme just a suck, all right?” I promise I don't bite.”

Joey knelt down and tried grabbing my legs, but I pushed him away.

“What are you here for, if not a sucking?” he said, slightly mad at my refusal. “Then let me jerk you off, OK?”

He grabbed my waist, holding me by the belt, and struggled to pull down my zipper.

“You faggot!” I cursed. “Let go of me!”

This got Joey mad. His lips tightened.

“Faggot?” he said. “Faggot? You mother fucken retard! I'll give you a fucking faggot!”

He grabbed my head and tried to pull it down, but I was able to get out of his way, freeing my head.

“You're gonna suck my cock, Ricky,” he said. “Get on your knees, baby!”

I made one desperate push and somehow I was out of there, freeing myself from that bathroom. I heard him say, “Motherfucker!” as I went running down the stairs and out of the movie house.

17. Port Authority

On the street it was a relief to be out of there. The traffic, the

people were like music to my ears, a cacophony of sounds. I walked firmly as if I owned the street, but I had to think that Joey had a hint of what I was becoming. Right now I was letting guys touch me, but how long would it be before I touched guys?

Shit! I thought, my hands around cock. I couldn't think of it. It gave me a bad feeling but that was where it was going. Sooner or later my mouth would be around cock. But would it? Now I let guys give me handjobs or suckings. Would it ever come to where I was doing the sucking or playing? How did I stay hard and how did I come? Shit! I was coming to a full blown cock-sucking. One I might enjoy.

Maybe...but I couldn't think of that now because I saw Joey, about a half block away, and he looked mad as hell. I turned the corner and darted into a run. That would at least put some feet between us.

I sprinted across 8^th Avenue and bustled unto the Port Authority building. It was crowded and packed with people coming and going. Joey must have followed me out of the Bryant movie house. Even if I was a faggot there was little chance I would suck Joey, no matter what.

I ducked into a drugstore, just to stay out of the way in case Joey did follow me. I like the book rack. It had lots of girlie magazines that I couldn't look at in Times Square shops, but there wasn't any objection here. Lots of big breasted woman flirting with nudity and I always got a hard-on from looking at them. What would I do if I ever bought a magazine? Jerk off, that's for sure, and probably jerk off twice if not more. Ha Ha! Had to put it down cause a store clerk was looking at me. Didn't want to get caught looking at magazines, did I?

“They're for sale, sir,” he said as I walked out, slightly embarrassed and red faced, but like hell I would buy anything. This time I didn't steal anything, but there were times I did.

I carefully walked through the huge Port Authority bus station, keeping my eyes out for Joey. Joe Blow I called him, cause that's what he was. I didn't see him. I thought it was stupid being afraid of someone, putting them in control of you, shirking round corners lest they see you. That was a stupid way of living. But avoiding problems was smart, I'd figured that out. So I decided to walk downtown and head home. There wasn't much to do anyway, and with Red gone, I felt lonely.

18. Elk Hotel

The next morning I was up at her hotel – the Elk Hotel – before I realized I didn't know her name. Shit! Red was something I called and that meant nothing. Even the hotel clerk looked at me as if I was an idiot.

“Look,” he said, in disgust. “Lots of women wear red skirts, some guys even wear them – some even wear pink ones. You wouldn't call her Pinky, would you?”

With that he went back to his paper. There was little I could do but slink down the stairs and out of the hotel. I lurked around the corner the rest of the day, hoping she would come by, but she didn't. Little by little I was getting mad. I felt like she was standing my up, like we had a date and she wasn't coming. That got me even more mad, like she was doing this to me on purpose. Shit! I thought. The hell with the bitch! And with that I stalked off down the street, thinking I'd never see her again.

On 8^th Avenue I cursed, cause there she was, all sleepy and wasted. She didn't see me and walked like she was dreaming, her head slightly nodding. She looked like she didn't know where she was going. She yawned, a big full-mouthed yawn, and saw me. Catching herself, she smiled a weak smile and staggered up to me.

“Hey...Billy?” she said, still unsure of herself. “Good to see you,” and she yawned again.

I didn't say anything, just glared at her.

“Miss me?” she said, in a little girl's voice.

“How was your trip? Turn enough tricks?” I guess she must have read my voice , very bitter and angry. “Do enough fucking? Or sucking?”

Her eyes jerked as if awake. She began to frown. “C'mon Billy, don't be like that. You know what I was doing?”

“Yeah, being a whore! Man, you'll fuck anything, right?”

She looked at me, sighed, then turned and walked away.

“Why don't you go back to Jersey where you can fuck and suck every minute!”

That stopped her. “Why? I can get it on the bus rides coming and going, this last guy was a real winner!” She turned and looked at me angrily.

She turned again and was off, leaving me standing there. I watched going down the street, and suddenly I wanted to run after her, letting the past be passed by, but I didn't. I saw a glimpse of her disappear into the hotel, and thought, Shit! I don't even know her name!

That night I must have jerked off ten times imagining her and I didn't even care that she had been with other guys. The more I jerked off, the more Red kept appearing in my fantasies. Even if I held onto my dick, sooner or later, she began to intrude. I always came with her image before me. No matter that I thought of a luscious babe, eventually the babe turned into her and I always came into her. Maybe that's why I kept jerking off, to rid her image before me, but I never did.

19. Joe Blow

The next day I was up at the hotel but what could I ask? I slowly went up the stairs and saw a different guy at the desk.

Whew! I breathed a sigh of relief and returned his smile at me.

No, I didn't want a room, I told him, I was looking for someone who looked like Red but I didn't know her name. He shrugged and said someone just checked out and yes, she was a dirty blonde. He lowered his head. Yes, she looked like a whore. That set him off into winking and smiling which almost set me off into a rage on anger, but I stopped myself.

“Did she say where she was going?” I asked hopefully.

He laughed. “I'd be there before you.” He winked and laughed again. I was out of that crummy hotel saying Shit! Shit! What if she want to Jersey? Aw, shit! I felt terribly sad and hated myself.

I had nothing to do but head to Times Square, which I did sheepishly until I saw a guy that looked like Joey. That woke me up and gave my a chill. Sooner or later I would run unto him. What if he wanted to have sex with me?

I heard about rough sex where the abuser takes a little kid and rapes him. Would it be considered rape if the rapist and rapee where the same age or knew each other? Something to think about as I walked across 42^nd Street.

I passed the Bryant movie house, where Joey was probably sucking cock, and headed across the street to the Pix. It was more expensive there to get in – a buck fifty compared to 99 cents at the Bryant. Shit! That asshole took my viewing pleasure (not to mention the blowjobs I would get.) I walked past the movie houses and headed into Bryant Park, where at least I could sit as long as I wanted to.

I saw a dim reflection of Red, disappearing behind the monument with a guy following her. There was something vaguely familiar about him but I was happy to see Red, no matter what, and I quickly followed after her. I shouldn't have been so fast cause when I came into the clearing, she was at her knees before Joe Blow! who stood above her with his limp cock out of his pants. At that instant I didn't know what I was doing, but I found myself rushing at Joey and pushing him out of the way.

“Hey!” he said. “What is this?” He looked surprised, but recognized me, his face took on a snide expression, like he had something in mind. Red looked embarrassed but kept on her knees.

“What the fuck is this?” Joey repeated. A weird smile appeared on his lips, cunning and sinister.

“I didn't know she was yours....”

“You bet she is!” I said angrily, and to Red, “Get up!”

But Joey just smiled and pulled out a knife, clicking the blade open.

“Why don't you join her?” he said, still smiling. “On your knees, faggot! C'mon, hurry up!”

I leaned over to pull Red up, but Joey pushed me.

“You cocksucking faggot, on your knees!” he repeated.

“Fuck you!” I said, trying to get Red to stand up, but Joey grabbed me and held the knife to my face.

“'On your knees,' I said!” Joey hissed, “You motherfucker!” He grabbed my shirt and pulled me down. “Join your cocksucking whore girlfriend!” A wild cackle erupted from him. “That's what I like, two whores on their knees!” Again he laughed. “Start sucking, you bitches!”

I tried to stand up but Joey grabbed me by the hair and held the knife to my head.

“Suck, you whore!” he said. “Give me a good blowjob!” Again he burst into cackles. I could feel the tip of the knife pressing against my skull and his hard cock just inches from my mouth. It smelled like piss and cum, and made me gag.

Suddenly, I heard Red say, “Think of me, Billy, think of me.”

As Red's nipple entered my mouth, it was lush and sweet and warm. I let my tongue swirl around it. It was delicious.

“Oh, Billie,” I heard Red say, “Oh, Billy.”

Fingers grabbed my head and started pulling my hair. I opened my eyes to a mass of smelly pubic hair. My eyes went wide as Joey flooded me with his cum. Joey's cock is in my mouth and he's coming!

A spasm of retching erupted from me. Out went Joey's cock followed by a stream of vile vomit.

“Bou'ah! Bou'ah!” I wretched, feeling like my head and chest were exploding. “Bou'ah! Bou'ah!”

Somehow I crawled out of the way when I heard Red, still on her knees, say to Joey, “Please, let me suck your cock, please?”

She said it in a little girl's voice, like the voice she used that first time with me. No matter the vomit pouring out of me, I felt incredibly jealous. As soon as I could stand, I'd kill that faggot, Joey, Joe Blow.

I gagged again. Red was pressed against Joey, her hands clasping the sides of his legs, when I heard him say, “Hey, watch out!”

It did no good.

“Hey, what the fuck!”

But whatever she was doing she did it more painfully.

“You fucking bitch, easy!”

Joey struck her at the side of her temple but it did little good.

“Bitch!” he said again, and this time louder, his face starting to contort into a pained expression.

“Owww! Owwww!” he cried, and again struck her, but she held on, her head buried in his crotch like she glued to him. His punches weren't punches, they were vicious blows.

“Bitch!” he yelled again, “Fucking bitch!”

I could see she wasn't sucking but biting hard, her teeth visible and clenched tightly.

Joey hit her again, and said “Fuck!” and lashed at her with the knife. Suddenly she spasmed uncontrollably and dropped straight down, pulling his cock after her. Joey shrieked painfully and cried, “No! No! Jesus! No!” He dropped down after Red, futilely tried to open her mouth, still clutching at his penis, but her mouth was clenched tight. His crying curses got quiet, and he was sobbing. “Oh God, please...”

20. Police Station

The cops were there within five minutes. Or was it two? Or three? Whatever it was, it was certainly fast. Cops and more cops and ambulances and people looking from the sidelines.

Red was at Joey's crotch, her mouth frozen around his dick, and blood was flowing thickly from the corners of her mouth. No matter how Joey moved and jerked, he was stuck to her, lying lifeless and immobile.

Bad thing was her eyes were open, like she had so something more to see or say. She didn't look vindictive or victorious, but rather like she was really tired of it all and now was going to take a well-earned rest. I only saw her eyes once and they gave me the chills, so I refused to look at them again.

No matter how Joey squirmed and screamed at the cops, they were just amazed at her biting of his cock. Still, no cop would touch it and it was left for the ambulance attendants to try and free him from her biting clutch. Somehow they did it, and left his cock hanging by a few veins that were worthless later. He never got a hard-on again, and it served him right. Dead Red took it away.

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. They took me away too, for a while I couldn't speak. Maybe shocked, maybe dumb-struck, maybe just afraid of what happened and my role in it.

There were lots of questions and more questions. It seemed like the third degree, a real inquisition that I wasn't prepared for. What was your role in the cocksucking? Did you take a good licking too? Any ass fucking by anybody? It was like a one-sided comedy farce with all the smirking laughter on the cop's side. I could just imagine the kind of questions Joey would be getting once he came out of surgery. Eventually I couldn't take any more and lowered my head, refusing to answer.

Fuck 'em! I thought, and they put me in a cell like I was some kind of convict. Maybe this was for the cocksucking that I did.

“Don't jerk off!” laughed one cop as they closed the cell door. By then I was mad as hell. Cops, they're all fucking low lifes, the fucking idiots! I don't know how long I spent in the cell, it got dark, then light, then dark again. In the evening they said I was free to go. Just like that, as if nothing had happened. But before I left the station house, as old cop handling the front desk, said, “Hang in there, kid, things happen in life for a reason.” I scowled, Like hell!

I wanted to say, thins happen cause people are sick! Sick as hell! Joey Blowey was sick and now had his dick in shreds. Red was sick and didn't have her life. I was sick and had a cock in my mouth but I was still alive. Big deal, I thought. Big fucken deal! As if it mattered now that Red was dead. Killed by that cocksucking faggot, Joey! Boy, was I mad! Good thing he had his cock torn to shreds cause I would've ripped his head off. Fucken faggot! Low life freak! Pervert! Retard! Degenerate! Scum!

It had been a lone time since I cried but I did so then. Red, whatever her name was, was dead. Jesus! Suddenly, the reality of what happened hit me and a few blocks away from the police station, I collapsed into tears and sobs. I don't know how long I cried or sat there, but eventually I came to and shuffled my way home. There were insults and recriminations from my parents, who didn't know a thing, just blamed me for everything they could think of, as usual. My mother was quiet and looked at me very sadly, while my father called me a sick cocksucking faggot and didn't have any more to say.

The news died down in about a week. They buried Red in a pauper's grave – she was from Chicago and had no parents – and they sent Joey off to prison. About a year later he got killed by another convict. I could just imagine Joey in prison, must have been like he was in cocksucking heaven. Until the end.

I went back through Times Square, of course, wearing different clothes, playing different roles, sometimes disappearing for months or years at a time, stagnating or growing, until the area changed, drastically changed, until I couldn't recognize it any more, or didn't want to.

21. Girls

The girls are going home now. Probably to change their bras or thongs, if they wear them. I can picture them without anything. Naked and big-titted, as they scatter down Broadway, across 42^nd, in various directions, catching buses and riding in trains. They'll be back tomorrow. I heard that Josie the the Pussycats will be here. Whew! That'll be some sight! Sounds like a porno jerk off movie, but it isn't. Just a teeny-bopper pseudo-band from a so-so hit movie. Either way, I guess they'll be here.

The theaters are empty now. 42^nd Street is peacefully quiet. The lights are going down.

At night Times Square is a very desolate place. Little memory remains of how it used to be. But parts of 8^th Avenue still get streen with prostitutes and transvestites. Probably for the good. Probably for the bad. I don't know.

Do I miss it? A little. Sometimes I get an erection thinking of the past, but not for long – it quickly dies down. Maybe it's my old age that keeps from holding it and jerking off. I don't know. Anyway, who care, right?

Nothing to do but go home. Maybe I'll came back, maybe I won't.

Aw, shit! Sure I will. Miss out on seeing the Pussycats? Like hell I will! Ha Ha Ha!

                                    The End