A Ukrainian born in West Germany, Mykola (Mick) Dementiuk grew up and survived on New York's tough Lower East Side streets, which are now a bare echo of what they once were. He is the author of Holy Communion (Lambda Awards Winner 2010/Bisexual Fiction), The Facialist )Lambda Awards Winner 2012 Gay Fiction) Vienna Dolorosa, Times Queer, and 100 Whores. His other writings in e-book are Dee Dee Day, Variety, The Spice of Life, Murder in Times Square, Times Square…in Brooklyn? Queers of Central Park, A Sucker for the Circus, Times Square Cutie and Stallers, More Tales of Times Square Cuties, and On the Prowl.
see his Web page Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
or his other Lower East Side novella Baby Doll Mykola Dementiuk: Baby Doll
Kisser: A Masculine Femininity by Mykola Dementiuk
Chapter 1
He leaned over and kissed me. Really just a peck on the cheek but I was surprised, kind of in shock, looking to my left and right along the path, but I already knew there wasn’t anyone looking at us. I was red-faced. He shrugged.
“So what if I kissed you, you’re a nice young man, you deserve to be kissed.”
I stared at him. I was very frightened and nervous. There was only one question to ask, “Are you queer?”
He faintly smiled.
“Oh, what’s the big deal if I am or not, I can ask you the same thing, “Are you queer?”
I bit my lips, staring at him and shaking my head. Of course, I wasn’t a queer, but I certainly suspected he was.
Each day I’d seen him in New York’s East River Park, walking along the river’s edge and just staring out at the boats or ships that were going in and out. He’d nod at me, vaguely smile and, I suppose expect me to stop, but I would simply nod back, return the faint smile and just walk on. A few times I turned about to see him looking after me, but I’d blush and quickly disappear along the path.
This had been going on for almost two weeks. The only times he wasn’t there was on drizzly days when hardly anyone else appeared in the park. My eyes and senses were peeled for him, but the empty desolate pathways remained as empty as always. For two days I expected to see him, but the loneliness of the park had become a constant reminder of my isolation and in the drizzle the aloneness grew stronger. I was starting to feel abandoned, which I had never felt before.
The next day it was sunny for a change. I went to the park, picking up a newspaper that I found discarded, and took a seat away from the river on a tree-lined path. I read the two headlines, wars and skirmishes around the world and economic problems and worries back home. I sometimes wondered why we have news reports if it’s the same story over and over. I set the paper down and looked both ways, not a soul in sight. I sighed.
I started thinking about the man. In a way his momentary appearance along the paths was a sort of welcome, but now in the past few days his disappearance had become a certain constant dis-welcome that he was no longer there. But that happens along the park lanes. Many a time you get used to someone being there and in a few weeks they’re gone and faded forever. I suppose finding jobs or moving away would do that, but in the past three or four months I had been coming almost daily to the East River Park I had certainly grown to see that life comes with unexpected changes. Everyday something new and now he was no longer there.
I frowned and let go of my hard and stiff penis; someone was coming. I had been sitting there just thinking and rubbing myself. I was certain the walker would soon pass, and I could continue what I was doing, namely soft jerking-off. I looked up at the approaching figure. Holy shit, it’s him!
He beamed as he recognized me, hurrying to my bench.
“Oh sweetness, it’s you,” he said, falling down beside me. “How have you been, darling?”
I nervously looked at him.
“You probably have me mixed up with someone else. I don’t know you.”
He leered at me, nodding his head.
“Yes, I know, I don’t know you either, but I hope to be better acquainted with you very soon.” He winked at me as I felt him moving much closer. “Has it been raining here in the past few days?”
With his wide eyes, he beamed at me. It was as if he was reading more than what was there before him, seeing into my soul and understanding what was visible to him, or so I thought.
I shrugged.
“It wasn’t that bad, just a slight drizzle. Still you had to keep walking—the dampness was constant. All the benches were wet.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve never come here on rainy days, the isolation is too lonesome, don’t you think, honey? But I love sunny days like today, isn’t it lovely here?” and he smiled, seemed to flutter his eyelashes, tapping his hand against my kneecap. It remained there.
Again, I shrugged.
“I like the emptiness; it means that the park is mine.”
“Oh sure, but you must have people you love in your life, that’s what makes life worth it, wouldn’t you agree, honey?”
Once more a squeeze and this time an inch higher on my legs. I looked at him.
“I don’t mind being alone, it helps you think, you know.”
“Hmm, yes it does, what do you think about? Care to share your thoughts with me?”
Another squeeze, more firmly and longer lasting as my face glowed with embarrassment.
“You know, just thoughts…oh, you don’t want to hear that,” I turned, shifting my leg so my stiff erection wouldn’t show as clearly, as I thought it was doing.
He hesitated, his eyes very bright and glassy, looking at my hardness. He squeezed my upper leg again.
“You must love being touched. Isn’t it a great feeling, another’s hands touching and feeling? It’s utter bliss!”
That was when he kissed me, his hand going towards my crotch. I was afraid someone might see.
“No, I’m not like that,” I squealed, pushing his hand away and looking around. Again, he groped my crotch. Needless to say, it was very hard. “I’m not a queer. I mean it.” Again, I resisted his hand.
“Aren’t you, honey?” He shrugged and let go of me.
I stared at him. I never admitted it to myself—the vague thoughts in my head of boys and men. Oh, what the hell. I was a mess. But if the thoughts did come up, what difference would it make? I was only nineteen years old and going nowhere; my life was a total waste.
I leaned back, the stiffness evident now.
“Sometimes I know what I am, but it’s impossible to be like you: a fruit.”
He snorted.
“Is that what you think of me, that I’m just a useless, horny fruit?”
“No, no,” I protested, “nothing like that. But what else can I call you, but a fruit, a fag, a sissy, they're all the same, no?”
I reddened and looked at him.
“You have many things to learn about men.” He smiled, shook his head and again moved closer to me. “But first let’s be friends, okay?”
I studied him. He held out his hand.
“Sure, we can be friends.” I offered him my own.
He took it, but his middle finger was held inwards, probing and prodding into my palm. “You like my hand on you, honey?…”
He let go and once again reached for my crotch.
I didn’t say anything, but he kissed me on my lips. I melted, kissing him right back as my hands reached behind his shoulders.
Chapter 2
If you had told me that one day, I would be kissing a man in the East River Park I would have said you were crazy, sick and perverted, but that’s exactly what I was doing. I held on to his head as if I had finally found what I’d been seeking all my life, a man sharing himself with me as I was sharing myself with him.
It’s incredible how you can get lost in the emotions you are feeling, the world suddenly becoming meaningless as you lay in ecstatic bliss of what is happening to you, when really all you can do is lie there and kissing him in return.
And the odd sensation of tasting another, in this case man to man, which would be not recognized by society as right and proper, rather very much perverted and anathema. I no longer cared if it was the correct thing to do or not, I melded into him, our saliva meshing for a unique sensation that has never been tasted before, that of his with mine, mixing and gelling together. We kissed—sucked up and swallowed each other’s saliva more and more.
But we broke from our passionate kissing when we heard a siren going by on the highway that skirted the park.
In the throes of our kissing, I did not realize I had cum in my pants just as he, too, spilled his own seed, our two hands rubbing and groping the other. It was as if we were fucking by not knowing what we were doing and the bliss, the satisfaction was the same as though we were stripped bare and doing it openly.
At that moment, looking at the starved being I was, I imagined I had lost my virginity to him, when in fact it wasn’t a loss but a sublime discovery. Finding him was the reason I had lived.
I stared at him dreamily and wondered when we would go to his place for a continuation of what had just occurred. I wanted more and more of his fucking me. I was a virgin and had never been fucked before, but now I would be.
“Well, that was beautiful, sweetie,” he said, adjusting his clothes and looking up and down the pathway; as usual, there was no one there. He stood up. “But I must go, have a job to go to, you understand, don’t you?”
I was devastated. What, a job to go to? I want to be taken to your bed and have you do what you want with me, strip me, make love to me, just fuck me, please, please, fuck me? But I didn’t say anything, just wiped my face of his saliva and shrugged.
“I know,” I quietly said, also standing up.
“Oh sweetie, we all have to work,” he said, holding me. “We can’t let our passions run away with us or where would we be?”
I nodded, looking up at him.
“Nowhere, I suppose?”
“Exactly, baby, nowhere.”
We held each other.
“Let’s meet tomorrow, right here by this bench and I’ll take you to my apartment and we’ll make real love. Okay, sweetie?”
Again, I melted, certain I was going to cum again.
“Where do you work, uptown, downtown?”
“Actually, cross-town, take the 9th Street bus to 6th Avenue and get off, you’ll be right in the heart of Greenwich Village. Walk a block and Studley’s is right there.” He winked at me. “You ever been there?”
“Where, in the Village?”
“No, Studley’s, the gay club in the Village.”
I shook my head. Gay club in the Village? I wondered. He means faggots, doesn’t he? Sissies, queers, yes he does, sweetie, that’s exactly what he means!
Washington Square maybe the heart of the Village but further west in a few twisted streets was its own heart, gay Greenwich Village. You could see it as gay men and women, lesbians, paraded through its streets, sauntering and not giving any indication of which gender they actually were. They could be either, men appearing as women and women taking on the rough exterior of men. If you tried picking up a nice girl there, you’d only end up with a floozy man masquerading as being a woman. Gender didn’t really matter here, in the end, you got what you were after anyway, sex.
“Aren’t those places banned? You know, as perverted and illegal?”
“Ha, what’s illegal, would you ban me? Just look at you, a kissing fairy just as I am but are you going to make us obey some stupid laws?”
I looked at him wide-eyed, how dare he call me a fairy!?
“You can have many laws in the books," he continued, "but they mean nothing. Just imagine how many countless laws we broke just by kissing and feeling each other up, and I might add, also cumming, honey. Now isn’t that against the law?”
He pointed at my crotch and the splotch of wetness standing out in my pants.
I immediately looked about to see if anyone saw me, before dropping back down on the bench and covering my crotch with my hands. But he stood before me with a similar wetness at his own crotch and wasn’t ashamed.
“Come to the Village, you’ll see many guys disappearing with their crotches wet.” He giggled and looked at his wristwatch. “Oh my, really have to go. Remember, honey, tomorrow at the same bench.” And he winked.
“But what time?”
“Oh, around one-ish or so, have to get my night’s beauty sleep. By the way, sweetie, what’s your name? I’m Ralphie.”
I blushed.
“Richard,” I quietly answered.
“Richard, a lovely name. Hey, that’s Dick, isn’t it?” his eyes beamed brightly. “A very lovely name, yes indeed, Dick or Dickie, that’s what I’ll call you from now on. Dickie.”
He leaned down and tried to kiss my mouth, but I turned and his lips brushed the side of my cheek.
“Well, okay,” he shrugged, “Have it your way, but we’ll do better tomorrow. Toodooloo.”
He disappeared down the paths taking him out of the park. I sat there and patiently waited as my stiff hard crotch very slowly dried. In the bushes, I saw a face of a man appear. I leaped up, holding my hand over my crotch and left the park.
Chapter 3
By 4 P.M. I was home, lying to my mother. I told her I had once again crawled through various work sites and offices, coming up with just-filled-out applications and go-nowhere job interviews. I had tried it some months ago, to find a job, but quickly became disillusioned. Things were very rough that year and unemployment was very high but being unemployed is counted as someone who actually once had a job to begin with and not someone like me, out of high school a year or two, and still aimlessly drifting along. Hopes for me were indeed rather slim.
I went to my room and lay on the bed, looking out at the tenement buildings around us. It wasn’t an attractive sight, but I stared anyway. Mom’s bedroom faced the front, giving her a better view of people and traffic, while mine had no cars or trucks, but once in a while someone did traipse by some window or other, giving me a secret view of them as they undressed. I looked forward to this almost every day. It was a woman, probably in her 30’s, most likely a schoolteacher. I’d seen her hurrying down the street carrying books as she bustled along. I don’t know why she felt no one would be looking into her window, because she left an open line of sight into her room with not a sheet or a curtain hiding her from view. That was what I was doing, looking and watching.
Almost at 4:30 P.M. she would appear, tired and looking exhausted, set her books down and undo her hair, which she had kept tied in a bun at the back of her head. Looking at her, my penis started growing, but then I remembered Ralphie from the park. I frowned, my cock lurching as if in frustration. The woman left the room, as I knew she would, then returned and started to undress. I stroked my limp cock and thought about kissing Ralphie. I closed my eyes. Boy had I grown hard! He certainly knew how to kiss me, that’s for sure, can’t wait to see and kiss him again. A few rubbing strokes and I clenched my teeth and jaw, erupting in another ejaculation. I could feel it spitting out on my belly and gut.
I opened my eyes. The woman had removed her blouse and stood in her bra as she began to fiddle with her skirt, slowly undoing a side zipper and sliding it down.
I frowned, standing up and not caring if she saw me or not. I went to the window and stared at her from across the yard, dropping the Venetian blind, unconcerned if it made a loud racket in coming down. I saw her looking in surprise at me. The Venetian blind crashed down.
I went to the bathroom, rubbed myself, thinking about Ralphie… Why hadn’t I kissed him earlier? How many weeks did I spend pretending I didn’t care when actually I did?
Chapter 4
When I first met Ralphie, he had been working at various Greenwich Village gay bars, but at that time, Studley’s was the tops. This was in the middle 70’s, when ‘Gay Rights’ was still an unheard of fantasy. To be gay in Greenwich Village was the norm. I had been to Washington Square Park many times, looking at the weird people who thronged the area, the Beatniks, the hippies, the outcasts who all fit in there, but I seldom strayed off of the well-known paths and twisted streets to find what was really there, gay Greenwich Village. I was headed for it now.
The streets greeted me openly, yet I still felt odd, my wide trousers caused many to turn back and give a questioning look as they strode past. I knew right away I wasn’t dressed for the Village streets, where a male who hustled was clad in slim tight pants and a T-shirt, and not in inappropriately wide dress pants such as I was wearing. In fact, I thought of myself in a wide skirt or dress as I swished and walked along.
Along Christopher Street I suddenly reddened and covered my face; there was Studley’s Bar, a multicolored gay banner over the window, a certain sign that it was gay-owned or gay-operated. An elderly man in a business suit came out of Studley’s Bar, looking very slim and elegant. He lit a cigarette and walked on, as I did, too, sauntering after him, as he paused and looked at a few store windows, causally taking his time. I was nervous but approached him.
“Is this the way,” I asked, “to get to the subway, streets are very twisted down here.”
He puffed his cigarette.
“Yes, it is, young man,” he said, looking me up and down, and getting out of the way of a woman walking past. “Twisted indeed.” He looked at me as if wondering, then said, “On the next block make a right and the subways right there. You can’t miss it.”
I nodded and said, “Thanks,” and turned to walk on.
“You’re not from around here?”
“Brooklyn.” I lied, stepped aside as another man walked past us. “Took the subway here, but I forgot where it was.”
“Oh, tough Brooklyn, is that where they still wear Zoot suits?” He smirked, glancing down at my pants. “I was there one time and I think it was one time too many.”
I looked at him as we both moved aside. The busy street seemed to be filled with people.
“Zoot suits, what is that?”
“Suits like you’re wearing,” and he pointed at my very wide pants, almost sneering at them. “Those came about in the Jazz Age in the 1930’s. Don’t see much of that anymore. Zoot suits were very fashionable at one time, big with the African-American crowd. I suppose being from Brooklyn, it’s understandable that you’d still be wearing it.”
Oddly, I felt as if he was sneering at me. I only wore it because Dad had it in his closet when he died. Mom kept all his clothes as if they were mementos. I saw the suit one day and thought it looked very neat and cool. I never knew there’d be such a history with it.
“It isn’t so bad,” I said, “you get used to it, after a while.”
“Yes, I suppose you boys from Brooklyn have your way of dressing, as we have ours.”
We stood on the street before a building as people walked up and down past us.
“What way do you have?” I asked.
He smiled and licked his lips.
“It’s hard to explain, honey, but why wear anything? Get undressed, that’s my motto. But I don’t want to take your time, you have a subway to catch. Don’t want to delay you.”
I shrugged.
“There’s always another one coming by. What’s a little time?”
We looked at each other, both of us licking our lips.
“By the way, young man, I live right here,” he said and nodded quietly, glancing at a building on our left. “You’re welcome to come up and we can resume our little conversation, undisturbed.” Again he moved aside for a walker, male or female, it was hard to tell.
I looked at him.
What was I doing? Am I crazy, a sick pervert, going to a stranger’s apartment?
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, honey, not at all.” His smile was wide and he led me into the building, away from the people walking on the street. “By the way, young man, what is your name?”
I smiled.
“Dick,” I answered, “but my close friends call me Dickey.”
“Ooh, I like that. You can call me Hard, or Mr. Hardy, which ever you prefer.”
We smiled at each other, him winking at me. “Okay Hard, or Mr. Hardy,” I said, winking back at him. “You know, I saw many bars and clubs on this street,” I said, as we climbed the stairs. “People start partying early, that’s for sure.”
On the first floor he turned and smiled at me.
“Some drink all the time, others don’t. I like to imbibe, it sets your spirits free for a little street action.” He winked as we continued up another flight of stairs.
“That sure was a busy street,’ I said, “with lots of people. I wonder where they are going?”
“Oh, I know, busy, busy, busy, but Christopher Street is always like that. Young men looking for older men, while older men are desperately seeking out sweet younger ones.” He shrugged. “You pay your money, honey, and you always have your choice.” And again he winked as we stood outside a doorway on the third floor and was about to turn the lock.
“Have you been looking long, honey?" he said. "I like to please young men if they know how to please me. Do you know how?”
I’d known what he was talking about ever since I’d seen him step out of Studley’s Bar, but the nearness of having my longings and desires fulfilled, of actually seeing what one man does to another, panicked me and I felt very frightened. I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “Sorry, no…” and I stepped back, pounded down three flights of stairs, and darted out into the busy street.
Chapter 5
I hurried west on Christopher, turned uptown on Hudson Street, and made my way to 14th Street, all the while passing other walkers and skirting around them as I hurried away along the street.
Am I a pervert or what, entering some building and climbing the stairs? I shook my head. Obviously, I am and expecting to be kissed just as Ralphie had kissed me. Boy, I’m nothing but a sick pervert. But, if I was a queer then what led me to Christopher Street and pretending, I wasn’t, just casually walking along? Casual, my ass, I was after some queer just as he was after me. Damn, what a pathetic loser! Queer loser is right!
After about a half hour of sauntering down along 14th Street, I turned and started walking downtown along Avenue A. It was early evening when I passed the men’s room in Tompkins Square Park; I winced from the memory…
A man stood next to me at the urinals as I was about to pee and just inserted his hand down the front of my jeans, gripping my hard penis, and proceeding to jerk me off. I knew that two other men were in the restroom, but he did it as if it was the most natural thing to do, regardless that there were other men watching what he was doing to me. Or where they there for that reason and didn’t he care?
Almost instantly I felt it, a gripping of my balls and crotch, an incredible tingling that exploded in a splatter of semen gushing out into the urinal.
I opened my eyes, the man still held on to my penis, faintly smiling, as the other two men also beamed at me. I panicked, gripped my sticky wet cock, shoved it into my pants, and fled from that restroom.
I shook my head, looked away from the park and walked on, making it to home on Christie Street. My eyes widened. Christie Street and Christopher Streets, names of two blocks where queers and fruits could be found.
I frowned, shaking my head.
Fruits my ass; I’m not a freaking fruit! But you are a queer, aren’t you?
I shrugged, opened my front door and saw my mom sitting by the television, watching a romance story, as she usually did. Any other dramas or crime stories Mom wouldn’t watch, but two love birds and she’d watch it endlessly. Mom had a thing for television romances, I didn’t.
I shut the door, mom looked up at me and waved an arm; I knew that the romance drama had reached a vital point, of whether the hero kissed the heroine or not.
A load of crap, I knew, but smiled at mom’s waving shadow and went to my room.
First thing was to get rid of that ridiculous Zoot suit and put on my usual jeans. I looked in my closet. Very cool, I had a pair of white jeans that fit me nicely but which I seldom wore as the whiteness was so fickle in catching every shred of dirt. I wore them a few times and came back feeling filthy, which I probably was. White jeans with a white denim jacket and I felt myself growing hard. Damn, I was stiff! With a light blue t-shirt and I’d be perfect for tomorrow. Even more kissing…?
I frowned. I was as excited as some girl out on her first date, excited and hot, slowly discovering what a date really means and usually finding her virginal blood shed and spilled much too quickly. I shook my head. Stupid high school sex talk…
Aw, hell, I’m not a girl, the hell with their virginity. All I want to do is to spill some spunk on Ralphie as he will probably spill his on me. Spunk, that eternal virginal smelling seed that only men can spill with a lush aroma all around them…I love it!
I tottered, lost in my thoughts as I heard mom moving through the house. I straightened my jeans and went to the kitchen to see what she made. There was a covered bowl with my favorite food, fried chicken. I grabbed a leg and began munching on it.
“Wait a minute,” said Mom, “I have mashed potatoes with peas just warming up.”
Through my chewing, I said, “Bring them on,” and finished one chicken leg and started on a wing, ignoring Mom’s admonition. But Mom was like me, a careless eater, as she was a careless feeder. We learned to take our food on the run and had to look out for ourselves. I liked that mode of behavior, it proved we were independent.
Mom set out some mashed potatoes with peas and said I can have a chicken breast, but from what I had eaten, the peas and mashed potatoes, I was already becoming full, though I continued nibbling on the remains of the chicken wing. It was a great meal. I was content.
“Think I’ll go to bed, I’m tired,” I said, rinsing my hands and face.
Mom shrugged and cleared the plates, going back to her romantic television. Must be another gooey program, I grinned, wiped myself, undressed, getting into my bed. Under the sheets, safe in my room, I instantly gripped my penis, thinking and imagining it was Ralphie holding me.
Wonder what would he do tomorrow, when we met by the river? Obviously and naturally, we’d exchange kisses and hold each other’s hands, but then what? It would be so nice to walk to his apartment, to cuddle up to him as he held me.
I jerked off, letting the semen spill into a tissue and rolled over, quickly falling asleep.
Chapter 6
I awoke feeling very sore and tired. I had jerked off too many times in the darkness, waking up to do so around 11 P.M., 2 A.M. and 4 A.M., finally sleeping until after 8 A.M. when I was awakened by the noises of the garbage collectors.
I got out of bed, rubbed my stiff, hard crotch and staggered to the bathroom.
Mom was out, it being a Saturday she had to work as a nurse’s assistant, taking care of the elderly in a few sites around the neighborhood—either those who lived with family or were kept in various homes in the area. Mom’s been doing that for a few years and would only say when she got home, “Hey, it’s a job, I’m lucky to have it.” I didn’t say a thing.
I was able to relieve myself; a gush of quickly expelling urine cascaded out of my penis, dribbling into the bowl and easing itself quietly to lie there. I flushed the wastewater and left the room.
It was still too early to go after Ralphie in the East River Park, way too early. I sat awhile admiring the white jeans and white jacket I’d be wearing; the light blue t-shirt added a hint of playing cheerfulness about me. I gripped my cock and slowly began to masturbate. No, I said to myself, we’ll do it together, him doing me and me doing him.
I walked through the house and turned-on Mom’s television. It was Mom’s, who else’s? I flicked through a few kiddie shows, quickly bored by the dumb, asinine programming and clicked it off. I rubbed myself a few times but went into the bathroom and ran the hot water.
That would be perfect, take a nice warm bath and get ready to go out to the river and meet Ralphie. My darling Ralphie, I thought and winced.
Looking about at the last moment, I opened Mom’s lavender bubbly shampoo and poured into the bathwater. It immediately blew up into varied shining bubbles and puffed out of the water. I looked at mom’s other fragrances and picked up small slim bottle of Chantilly Lace I’d seen Mom pour into her bathwater before she bathed; I shrugged and did the same. A sweet odor of feminine elegance rose up. I stepped into the bubbly perfumed water, resting a while then sank into fragrant water over my head. It was beautiful; the sweet water about me, its aroma saturating me with a fine scent that now took over and possessed my entire body. Its fragrant elegance was absolutely perfect! Oh, if only I could only wear feminine perfume every single day.
I let the bubbly water lavish me as I lay with my stiff dick pointed upwards, then ran the water out of the tub, playing with bubbles that remained.
I got out and dried off, breathing in the perfume. It was everywhere, its sweet nectar reaching deep into my senses and spirit. I knew that I had used too much, but I didn’t care. I left the bathroom, still smelling myself.
Perhaps if I rinsed myself a second time... I thought but knew I had used too much. The bright crisp Chantilly Lace seemed to have settled into me. I shrugged and began to get dressed, feeling very giddy as I was doing it, too.
Masculine femininity, I thought, what a desirable mood to be in. Simply exquisite…
I smiled to myself in the mirror, played around with some of mom’s makeup and dared to lather a streak of eye shadow about my eyes, smiling to myself as I did so. The hint of shadow made my eyes appear much bolder, vivid and emphasized.
Perfect, I thought, and proceeded to get dressed. I frowned, too bad Mom never wore real woman’s undies, hers were strictly utilitarian, designed for rudimentary wearing and not for fickle playing as if you were a girl. That’s what I was, wasn’t I, a girl? Well, a temporary girl...
I smiled and slid on my blue T-shirt; it fit perfectly, a scant feeling of tightness, but I’m sure I would get used to it. My white pants crawled up snugly, squeezing my hard rigid cock that stood out aligned on my left as if certain that a determined feeler would be groping and feeling me very soon. I slipped on my white jacket and looked at myself in the mirror.
Ooh boy, did I want to jerk off and cum!
I squeezed my crotch and went out to the street, walking firmly, certain that my buttocks were rounded out as I flitted to the East River Park to meet Ralphie, my dreamboat.
I blushed, giggled to myself and walked into the park.
Chapter 7
One o’clock came and went, and still no Ralphie. Since it was a Saturday more and more people crowded around the playgrounds, the sporting fields or just walking along the river’s edge. I sat there eagerly, nervously, chewing my lips and looking about for him.
I asked a woman jogging by, “Do you know what time it is?” She answered, “Fifteen after two,” and continued jogging along, but still no Ralphie.
I winced from the feelings of abandonment. All he was after was a kiss, which he received so easily. A kiss and a grope, that’s all he was after. I supposed there are men who admit to doing just that, a kiss, a feel and they disappear. I was the loser on my end; he was the winner on his side. Look at us now, one up one down, and the show must go on…
I frowned, almost in tears, when I felt a breeze, a waft, a kind of wind blowing on me from the path. I looked up. It was Ralphie! Instantly, I ejaculated. Shutting my eyes from the tightening of my body, almost a fury, yet a serene bliss came over me. I opened my eyes and saw my saving angel standing before me. I was no longer alone, worried and lost; he had come for me. Before, as I waited and waited and looking about, I had occasionally gripped my hard cock, which pushed out so boldly in my white jeans. A stroke, a clasp, and I let go. I ached to be touched, caressed, held, but in the end, as I always did, I held onto myself. In this way I had masturbated myself without knowing it to unconscious fulfillment and utter bliss. The ejaculation was beautiful!
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” said Ralphie as he dropped to the bench and put his arm about my shoulders. “I overslept, forgive me.”
I shrugged, feeling the sensation of my scum easing on my thigh.
“That’s alright, I was just sitting here, biding my time.”
I set my leg down and saw the big splotch that had formed at the thigh.
“Oh no!” I said, turning red and looking about. I removed my white denim coat and draped it over my lap.
“What’s wrong, sweetie, you can tell me, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
And he winked at me. If a couple hadn’t sauntered by our bench at that moment, he would have kissed me, and I would have kissed him right back. The couple walked on.
“I spilled it all over me,” I muttered, and blushed. “Now I’m all wet.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Spilled what, sweetie, I don’t understand?”
I looked at him.
“My scum, it shot out as soon I saw you,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I have to be a queer pervert.”
“No, baby, c’mere,” and he tightened his hold on me and kissed the side of my cheek, tugging at my jacket of my lap. “You were just excited and happy, as I was, too.” He looked at me and licked his lips. “Now let daddy see, he’ll lick it away, c’mon…”
I sighed, staring at him, glancing up and down the path; no one was coming. I lifted my jacket. Where my scum had poured out on my crotch, a damp spot stood out visibly. Ralphie looked and muttered, “Lovely, very lovely,” his hand going for my crotch as my stiffness increased and grew. “Oh, let’s go to my apartment, honey, I want you! I want to suck you so much, let’s go. And I’m sure you want to suck me too.” He gave me a kiss and I kissed him back.
Standing up, I spotted a face looking at us.
“Oh Jesus, that man’s been looking at us,” I said and pointed a finger at him. It was the same face I had seen a few days ago, a nervous face staring at us.
Ralphie looked and chuckled.
“That old pussy? He’s too old to do anything just look and look. You have never seen him before?” he asked. “He’s an obvious old fairy. Pay him no mind.” I stared back at the man. “He’s harmless; he’s old and tired. Unless you like to show off to old men who can’t even jerk off?” Ralphie shrugged and winked at me. “It takes all kinds to make the world go round, doesn’t it?”
I nodded and felt his arm on my shoulder. I looked back at the old man and wondered, So he was looking at me all the time, did he see how hard I was?
“Hmm, what’s that smell, it’s been around you since I first got here?”
I looked at him, very embarrassed.
“Chantilly Lace,” I whispered. “Put it on just for you, had it in my bath.”
“You did? Sweetie, you’re amazing!”
We walked a little faster and I loosely carried my jacket before my damp crotch. I couldn’t wait to get into his bed.
Chapter 8
Ralphie lived on 10th Street between Avenue A and Avenue B, overlooking Tompkins Square Park. I liked it right away. The tall ceiling windows added an air of elegance. They overlooked the park, which I wasn’t used to seeing from my small tenement.
Ralphie was tired. He kept yawning and repeating that he had “too much to drink last night.”
I shrugged, “It happens…” as if I knew what that felt like.
Adult drunkenness, that still was beyond me, even though I was nineteen and knew that people my age drank. I was still a few years from the legal age of twenty-one. Young men of eighteen were dying in Vietnam, but that meant nothing, as long as they couldn’t get drunk. Jesus!
Ralphie poured himself some tomato juice, added pepper, and drank the entire glass.
“Ah, better,” he said. “Take a seat and remove those stained pants, you’ll look better when you do.”
He winked as I started to slip my shoes and socks off, unbuckling and then pulling my pants down.
I felt no oddness or strangeness, I was just removing my pants. The scum stain very evident on my lap. I stood in my underwear before him.
“Drape them on a chair before the window, the sunlight will dry them.” He yawned again. “That’s right, leave them there. Now come here, baby, get those clothes off so I can have a look at you.”
I did as I was told, pulling off my shirt and lowering my underwear, revealing my stiff and hearty erection.
He also undressed and I gaped at him. I’d never seen a man fully naked before. I’d thought of it many times, but never had the good fortune to actually see a man fully nude. The sight was scary, seeing his half-stiff erection on his chubby body, but I boldly marched to him. We lay down on his bed together.
We kissed and again I drifted into nothingness, I felt his tongue and saliva down my cheek as I sucked him back, my lips all around his face. But then I heard it, a faint chaotic breathing followed by a snore…
He had fallen asleep. I frowned, looking at him, not knowing what to do. My penis was hard and uselessly stiff, whereas his had receded into a faint bulking nothingness that just lay there on his torso.
My arm dropped away from him, but I lay there with the other arm trapped beneath him. I tried to inch my arm away, but he snored again and rolled on his side.
Great, my arm was freed. I lay still, listening to his now faint breathing. Should I fall asleep too and do what lovers always do, sleep together? But sleeping together doesn’t prove you’re in love with each other, it’s what you do together when you’re awake, that will show you the closeness that two people share. Is Ralphie close to me or am I close to Ralphie? We kissed, shared ourselves with the other, now there he was, sleeping beside me. That must be love, no? I didn’t really know; I had never been through it before.
I looked at his bulky torso. Doesn’t look very appetizing now, does it? Where did I get the idea that this could be really sex? Manly sex, feminine manliness, masculine femininity, it was all a shambles in my brain. I had no idea what I needed or wanted.
I carefully got out of bed and began to dress. No point in my remaining while he took his beauty sleep, was there?
I grinned and quietly slipped on my pants. The splotch had dried somewhat, the wide droplet shape remaining, but not looking so intense and only if you probed would you still you find traces of a spill. I dressed, leaving my socks and shoes off, and stepped into the kitchen where the front door was.
I looked back at the room where he slept, then quietly opened the refrigerator. Cold cuts and bottles of wine stared up at me. My mouth immediately watered. I picked up a few pieces of meat and ate them. Delicious! Hope he doesn’t mind that I had eaten some. Oh, so what! I chewed on some more cold cuts and then went to the door, looking at the locks. One was a spring lock and I opened the door and let it go. The lock snapped shut behind me. I went downstairs.
Chapter 9
On the street, I walked through Tompkins Square Park, taking my time in getting anywhere. It was a Saturday and everyone was just lazing along, drifting through their day.
Maybe I should go home and have something more to eat—I remembered my mom’s fried chicken, my mouth again watering—but she wouldn’t be back from work till very late, about 10 P.M. or so. I shrugged and headed to the East River Park.
A little wind had picked up, causing waves in the river, but the promenade was high enough. One could feel safe and look down on the water.
I walked, taking my time. On about Houston Street I looked along some paths where Ralphie had sat and kissed me. I dreamily fell to the bench, imagining he was sitting and groping me again, that I was dropping down atop him as he lavished me with his caresses. I opened my eyes…
In the distance stood a figure, looking right at me. Strange, he looked familiar. Wait a minute, that was the old man who stared at me and Ralphie kissing; it was him! He had seen us, but kept himself well hidden, that is until now. I shook my head and chuckled. What a old gay homo pervert, that’s for sure.
The man stood quietly as if he was thinking of something. I can imagine what, I thought, smirking to myself and spreading my legs, my penis once again firm and very rigid. I gave myself a good solid squeeze, turning around to see if anyone else was looking, but really drawing his attention to me. I didn’t let go of my crotch, but slowly moved my hand along the sides of my penis. And as if being emboldened, the man began walking in my direction. Oh no, he’s coming closer, only a few steps away. Oh yes…
“Naughty, naughty,” the man said as he approached. “Such a young and naughty boy, tsk, tsk,” he said. He reddened and blushed but sat down beside me.
There was something feminine about the man, the way he lisped and carried himself, taking little steps as if he was wearing high heels.
I did nothing, just looked at him, slowly squeezing and tweaking my stiff penis. He leaned over my lap, his face just few inches above my crotch. He licked his lips as he slowly swayed his head.
“I’ll do anything to kiss you, Missy. Please just let me kiss you. You don’t mind if I call you that, missy?” he gushed. “Such a sweet young missy.”
That was some surprise; I had never been called a miss but a missy? I didn’t mind it at all.
I slowly shook my head.
“I don’t mind at all; I feel like such a missy anyway.” I blushed. “But a kiss?” I muttered, “You only want a kiss?”
He avidly nodded.
“Oh yes, Missy, you don’t have to do anything but lay there as I kiss you,” and he reddened too, “a kiss is all I want, a sweet kiss.”
His mouth was slightly ajar as if waiting for me to do just that. He blushed. “But if you want you can kiss me back, but I won’t make you.”
I let go of my stiff dick.
“Just a kiss," I pondered, "don’t you want to do anything else to me?”
He thought a few moments, shyly looking at me. “Come to my house, Missy, and cuddle with me. I’ll hold you, you hold me. That’s all I want. You don’t even have to take your clothes off for that, just hold me and let me kiss you and I’ll do the same to you. It will be beautiful!”
He sat staring at me, and my cock became even harder than it was before. And I noticed a slight fear, a pain swept through him as a thought appeared that I would reject him. But I wouldn't...
“Hmm, very lovely,” he breathed out, taking a whiff of the air about him. “Is that you?”
I blushed, realizing what he was scenting. I nodded my head.
“Chantilly Lace, just a few drops into my bath water. Maybe I put on too much?” I said, looking at him.
“No, no, it’s ideal. I thought I smelled it when I approached but I wasn’t really sure.” He also blushed. “You’re an ideal young missy, so sweet, too.”
I smirked and shook my head. "You keep calling me in fag homo terms as if I am one..."
"Aren't you?"
He looked at me and suddenly I felt very scared and frightened. Because how did this old geezer know what I was? What triggered the knowledge? Was it recognition? Did he see me in him? Strangely, I felt calm and at peace. My constant street wanderings led to this, an old man wanting to hold and kiss me. How would I respond and what was I going to do?
“Sounds very lovely,” I softly said, “Can’t wait till our two lips meet as one, absolutely very lovely.”
“You mean that? Oh Missy, you mean it!" he took and squeezed my hand." You’re not just saying that you really, really mean it! Do you?”
I nodded, humored by his childish way of speaking.
“Sure, kissing might be very nice. Make believe that I'm a girl," I giggled. "Sounds so lovely indeed.”
He leaped up. “Oh Missy, Missy, I’m so happy!”
I also stood up.
“Is your place near here?”
“Not far at all, not far at all.”
We walked in a hurry as if someone was pursuing us and quickly made it to his apartment on 5th Street and Avenue B in no time. We breathed out as the front door shut behind us. He took my hand...
Chapter 10
Mr. James was an elderly man, retired from his position as a schoolteacher. He spent his days walking the streets or sitting on park benches and looking at people, one of his favorite sites being the East River Park. He was pleasant and good-natured, but he had been alone so much that he had vague, undirected feelings of resentment. But he steeled himself and continued his endless days of meaningless walks and peering at people.
His most favorite was seeing young lovers together in a fit of abandon, feeling each other up, mercilessly, heedlessly, wantonly, until they reached their aims and goals—mutual orgasms—and then scuttled from the crazed park bench afraid that they might have been seen.
Mr. James always imagined he was looking at sweet young men, kissing, hugging and feeling each other up. The young women in their pretty clothes he imagined to be young and perfect transvestites.
And seeing me and Ralphie kissing was his ideal goal. We possessed him and he sought us everywhere he went in hopes he could spy on us again.
And when the lovers and kissers left, he stepped from the shadows, still limp, and watched them fade back into the Lower East Side streets.
He went back home, a bit sad but very content, until the next time when he’d spy on someone and reach his meaningless satisfaction, imagining they were men. That was his quest and goal.
We reached Mr. James’s house, a first floor apartment with bars on the eternally unopened windows protecting him from thieves and other malcontents. The rest of the rooms were filled with books and albums which were very dear to him.
“These are my students,” he said, after showing me his tiny rooms and other knick-knacks about the house, “I hold them very dearly.”
“They must love you, too?” I sighed, sipping from some tea he had given me. I was getting impatient. When is the kissing and making out supposed to start?
I sat on the couch next to him and eased myself closer, gazing at a picture of a sweet young man.
“Philip here kissed very well, he knew how to let it go and just enjoy…”
He turned the page, looking at another student he thought was a bit lackadaisical.
“Now Matthew…” and he shook his head, “I had some difficulties with Matthew…but he came around.”
I’d had enough.
“Show me,” I said, “please show me,” my arms were open to him but he looked at me nervously.
“Hmm, a very impatient young man, aren’t you?”
I got mad.
“If you’re going to kiss me then kiss me or else I’m out of here.”
I folded my arms over my chest in frustration. Almost instantly he set the album down and leaned to my side, kissing and holding me. I melted, my arms going around him. His taste was like a taste I’d had before, but now I knew that each is slightly different, slightly more appetizing and appealing. Ralphie’s kisses were nothing compared to his, moist and tender and very eager to please. I knew I was melting, but unlike the forgetfulness with Ralphie, I felt also at peace, with full acceptance and serenity that I wouldn’t care what he did to me.
“Hmm, nice,” he said. “Divinely nice, yes, indeed,” and again his lips went to mine, and we kissed, holding ourselves mouth to mouth, body to body, being to being.
A few hours later, after some soup, much kissing and cuddling, giggling, whispering, and sharing sweet words I sadly said, “I have to go, it’s almost 9 P.M. and I have to get home.”
“Oh, yes, yes. My, how the time does fly when you’re enjoying yourself, doesn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Sure does, goes by very fast, too. You don’t even know where it went.”
He looked at me and once again we fell against each other, kissing so passionately I didn’t think we’d ever stop. But he broke from me.
“Let’s not forget ourselves, we have much time before us, let’s savor this while we can, alright?”
I shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess,” I looked at him. “How come you don’t want to do anything else, just kissing and cuddling? There’s more to life than just that.”
He looked sadly at me.
“I suppose you’re dissatisfied. Haven’t I pleased you?”
I shook my head.
“Oh no, I’m very pleased and happy, too. I feel like such a sissy, I’ve never felt like this before, but these things seem to lead to something bigger and greater,” I hesitated, “you know, like fucking.” There I said it! “Like filthy fucking, which you don’t care to do, now why is that?”
He was silent, having fallen to a seat and rubbing his head. I felt stupid for saying what I did. He looked at me.
“You want to know why? All right, I’ll tell you. I’m old and tired, haven’t had an erection in over twenty years. Can’t get it up even if I masturbate like a lunatic, my penis just lies there, like a dead and worthless tadpole, which it is.”
He looked at a watch ticking on a table and yawned.
“I suppose it’s time for you to leave,” he said, going to open the door and holding it ajar. I got up.
“Can I come back, please?”
He shrugged.
“It’s up to you..."
I nodded.
The door was opened but he fell into my arms and gushed, "Oh missy, missy..."
We kissed a final time, and I took my jacket and left. The door shut behind me.
Chapter 11
At home Mom had just arrived from work and was making something to eat.
“Not hungry, Mom,” I said, as she looked at me and shrugged. I knew my relationship with Mom was slowly falling apart and I guess she didn’t care anyway. It had to come to an end sooner or later.
Earlier, Mr. James had made us chicken noodle soup with peanut butter sandwiches and even though I didn’t feel right about eating it with him his setting out the plates and carefully ladling out the soap made me realize how prim and proper he could be. Like an old Jewish mother, I thought, but I smiled, shrugged and very easily eased into his fussiness, as we began to chat, slurping our soap and nibbling on our sandwiches.
Strange that Mr. James is so alone, I thought, I actually began to feel sorry for him. He wasn’t a bad old man. He just wanted someone willing to kiss him, which, of course, I did, and I liked it, too. How many hours did I spend with him? Quite a few.
I nodded my head. I’d go back to him, that’s for certain.
I heard mom turn on her television and go through various channels. It being a Saturday night not that many romances could be found, just moronic slapstick comedies, which she quickly clicked away, going on to another station.
I took my pants off and looked at my hard dick pushing in my underwear. Good that Mr. James didn’t mind me sitting and lazing with my pants off since I had cum three times in kissing him. Still, even now the shorts were damp from my scum stains.
I covered myself and thought how my past few days went. Making out with Ralphie, almost going to Hard or Mr. Hardy’s house in the Village, meeting up and kissing old Mr. James…
I was happy. I yawned, clutched my dick and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 12
Next morning, I awoke determined to see Ralphie. Of course, it was a mistake to leave his apartment when he slept, I should not have done so. I should have waited until he at least awoke, no matter how briefly, to tell him I had to go. What the hell, I’d go and apologize, that would set things right with him.
I showered and glanced at Mom’s perfume bottles. Should I or shouldn’t I? Shalimar read one. Mom hardly ever used it and I wondered why. But it may be because Dad liked it very much. I lifted the bottle sealer and had a whiff. Oh my God, so lovely! I held a finger to it and tipped the bottle, raising it to my ear lobes, one at a time then dipped it to my crotch and rubbed it in. Oh boy, too much. Damn, too much…
I exited the bathroom and went to get dressed. Definitely too much, I knew, but I figured it would fade away once I was outside and walking. I finished getting dressed, same white pants but a light purple T-shirt I hardly ever wore. It looked totally faggotty at first, but now it looked ideal.
I nibbled on some toast with jam and went outside.
The Lower East Side streets were still deserted in the early Sunday morning as I walked along to Ralphie’s building, passing a few people on their way to church. It was still too early to call on Ralphie. He’d be sleeping and would be sore as hell if I awakened him.
I walked to the west side, passing empty streets and avenues until I came to Washington Square Park, where I took a seat and rested. I watched a few people going by, but they seemed to have a destination rather just lazy sitting as I was doing. Washington Square Park is much like the rest of the morning city, sleeping late and having a hard time in getting up.
Along one of the walkways I saw a man, sauntering slowly and looking about, coming nearer to where I was sitting. I spread my legs, making sure my erection was visible in my white pants. He spotted me and held on to something in his hand as he confidently approached.
He was a tall, skinny man, dressed in a suit and tie looking like he was dressed for a boardroom meeting rather than a Sunday morning stroll around the park.
“Howdy, young man,” he said and nodded. “You look like you’re looking. Are you?”
His eyes shone with an eagerness for something, but I didn’t know what.
I smirked.
“Looking, looking for what?”
He stared at me and stood above me rocking on his legs.
“Looking for your Savior, sweet Jesus,” he said, and held out a stack of papers. He handed one to me. Accept Jesus now before it’s too late, one read, and I frowned.
“No thanks,” I said, trying to give him back his paper.
“Oh, but you must, your mortal soul is in danger. Jesus will save you,” he nodded his head and tried give me another paper. It listed all the bad times coming to the Earth. I wouldn’t take it; he set it on my lap. “Save yourself from homosexuality, it’s your last chance! Flee from the heartless sodomy! You’re not in Greenwich Village, you’re in the pit of hell!”
I jumped up.
“Go screw yourself!” I said, and threw the religious paper back at him, walking west out of the park.
What an asshole! I thought, shaking my head. A total asshole!
I was on 6th Avenue, making my way up Christopher Street. All the stores and bars along the street were locked and closed, it being a Sunday morning. I looked at Studley’s Bar, then I saw a sign Closed Sundays.
Damn, I realized, that puts a damper on things, doesn’t it? He’s probably at home sleeping his beauty sleep while I am out on the streets pretending not to be a fool, which I am, in any case. Shit!
A few more steps and I was right before Hard or Mr. Hardy’s house, whom I ran away from, afraid and frightened.
Why did I always think I could go back and set things right? There it is again, being a total fool. No way would he take me back, I thought, shaking my head.
Then I saw him, coming out of his building with a man coming after him. The man was shirtless but had a leather vest on and leather pants that he wore so tightly. A small goatee stood out from his bald head as he trod after Hard or Mr. Hardy. I tried not to be seen, but on the quiet empty street it was inevitable that I’d be spotted.
“Hey, I know this sissy,” said Hard or Mr. Hardy, “He’s a no-good evil prick!”
“Oh, he is, is he?” said the leather shirtless man. “Does the little cunt want to take it up his ass? Come to me, you pussy!” He began to unzip, reaching in his pants for his cock.
But I had turned and raced down the street, leaving the Village and eventually returning to the Lower East Side.
“What a bunch of sick faggot dudes!” I shook my head and walked on.
I’d go see Ralphie and apologize for my foolishness. That’s what I’d do, set things right again.
I walked firmly in my white pants and faggotty T-shirt, knowing I was on the right track. On Avenue A and 10th Street I paused to look at his building, standing on the other side of the street. It was after 11 A.M. and he must be up by now. Still, he didn’t show up until after 2 P.M. like the other day when I waited and waited for him in the park.
I scowled, mumbled Shit! a few times, then said, “Fuck this!” and crossed the street and entered his building, slowly going up the stairs. At his door I paused and listened. Quiet. I tenderly knocked.
“Ralphie, it’s Dickie,” I quietly called, and knocked again.
I heard hurried movement, and someone pounced to the door, flinging it open.
“You little bastard, you spoiled my party, didn’t you? The food façade looked like a piece of shit after you ate half of it, you prick! Stole a hell of lot of cold cuts, didn’t you, you creep! How dare you? How dare you?” He fumed. I thought I would see plumes of smoke coming out of his nostrils. “You spoiled my party, you spoiled it! Now go to hell!” And he slammed the door in my face.
Damn, what did I do? Then I remembered the food I had eaten; probably was all part of a planned banquet for someone and I nibbled some cold cuts and spoiled their appearance. Nibbled my ass, I probably ate a whole bunch, I thought, oh, screw them, the assholes!
I stormed back into the street and Tompkins Square Park, mumbling to myself and sneering at every walker who passed me by. What was I supposed to do about his rotten food? Oh, fuck him, fuck him!
I sat on a bench and rubbed my face…then I remembered Mr. James and all the bitter and angry sensations melted and drifted away. I felt my erection tingling and stirring. I jumped up and knew where to go, I headed to Mr. James's 5th Street apartment. That's one place where he'd smile at me. And I couldn't wait to kiss him...
Chapter 13
I gallantly but nervously strode down the street to his building, looking at his gated up and shuttered windows. Fear of theft was very strong here...
I leaned against the doorway. Should I go in and wake him or perhaps he is up already? Oh, what the hell, it is almost 12 P.M. anyway.
I entered his building and went to the first door. I listened…silence. From somewhere on an upper floor a child ran across the ceiling. Can’t be sleeping with that noise going on, I thought.
I gently knocked.
“Mr. James, it’s Richard," I lowered my voice. "Missy, Missy is here to see you…”
I heard a sound. “Yes, who did you say?”
I breathed out, relieved. In the lobby the front door opened, and I saw a man stepping into the building, look at me and start up the stairs.
“Missy,” I scowled, “It’s Missy from last evening, you remember…Missy.”
I turned to the man, who looked back at me and shook his head, continuing up the stairs.
The locks clicked, turned, and the door opened.
A silent Mr. James stood looking at me. He had a feminine robe about his shoulders with eye shadow casting a dark aura to his face. I longed for him.
“Just dropped by to see how you’re doing?” I bit my lips. He took two whiffs about me.
“You’re wearing perfume again, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Probably spilled too much," I shrugged, "people have been looking funny at me.”
“Hmm, I can tell you why…” he said taking deep breaths.
We gazed at each other, both of us biting our lips, then he took a step back.
“Come in, come in…”
He shut the door and looked at me. I winced and softly said, “I missed you.” I lowered my head.
“I missed you too, sweetheart," he put his arm on my shoulders. "What perfume is that, the aroma is very familiar?”
“Shalimar, but I think I poured a little too much. Too many looks from people around me, but I don’t care, I wore it just for you.”
“Shalimar," he shut his eyes. "Heavenly," he looked at me. "I didn’t think they still made it. But what would I know, I suppose they do.”
He sniffed me again, on each side of my face.
“Very lovely, indeed.”
I bit my lip.
“The rest I put on crotch, between my legs.”
He fell on the couch.
“Oh, Missy, what you do to me. I want you. Ever since I met you, I knew that you were the one for me, we’re ideal, we’re a perfect pair.”
I smiled.
“Yes, we are,” I giggled and straddled him. “I never want to leave you.”
We kissed and I blushed.
“I’m here to help you get a hard-on again. I know you can do it.”
“You think so?”
“Uh huh.” I nodded. “I know so.” He looked at me and then he rolled atop me.
“Oh, Missy…” I leered at him.
“My hard stud…” I whispered.
We kissed, our tongues licking and sucking each other. It was beautiful!
THE END
