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

 

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

The Facialist

A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side

by Mykola Dementiuk

Chapter 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, hell, I was hard again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My God, what is this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was angry.

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

I surged out of bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boy did that feel renewing!

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

Chapter 22

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

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

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

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

God did that hurt!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, I had to pee.

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

Again, I rolled over and settled into bed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Seventeen," I breathed out without thinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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