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THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
The Facialist
A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side
by Mykola Dementiuk
Chapter 23
I was pissed, angrily storming out of the restroom and looking around, but the park was empty, a light drizzle had begun.
I walked down Second Avenue to Eleventh Street, passing by Shelly's and Pani Stetz's building, frowning to myself as I continued to the comforting peace of the Tompkins Square Library.
It was nice being there and out of the misty drizzle. The library books stacked neatly, the few people reading and pursing knowledge, the librarian supervising the movement of books, of checking them in or out.
In the library the busyness of the outside world seemed to be closed off by the front door. No Entry, the mystical sign seemed to say, unless you want to read, pursue knowledge, and maintain your silence!
I walked to the New Books standing on a shelf. Very strange science fiction, gooey stories of romance, clever intrigue in the business world, and on and on it went.
I picked up a paperback, Holy Christ, that's Pani Stetz! Or at least the caricature looked like her. It showed a drawing of a seductive shiny-haired woman sitting sprawled out on the floor, her legs in shortened pants but spread out before her, and her arms uplifted behind her just waiting to be ravished.
I grabbed the book off the shelf and went to a row of other books where I had flirted and whispered with Shelly.
But I frowned, the book was a drag to read, really a silly mystery. I expected a revealing view of what goes on in the bedrooms, but all it showed were lifeless words going nowhere, which after a while, was pretty boring and lifeless. I knew they'd have to let the killer go.
I put the book down and stretched my arms, glancing at the slowly ticking clock, high up on the wall.
Wow, five minutes to three, I'd better get out of here. I glanced at the book cover, smirking to myself, and left the library.
It was a short walk to Eleventh Street near Second Avenue.
Amazing how good I was feeling, it must have been that sexy book cover I was holding while the inner words did nothing to me.
I walked right into Pani Stetz's building and confidently strode up her stairs. The hell with Shelly, I thought, nothing but a useless sissy. I frowned. Wasn't I one too?
I knocked on her door, silence. I knocked again, still silence.
She did say three, didn't she?
I shrugged and skipped down the stairs when entering the doorway came Shelly and his mother. Shelly seemed beaten and defeated, he looked up.
"That's him," gushed Shelly, pointing a finger at me, "the queer sissy I told the counselor about, he dragged me there! Him and his queer friends! He made me do it! They just want to kiss and suck boys! Now he's looking for other boys. Oh, mommy, don't let him take me away, please!" And he buried himself in her arms as she cuddled him.
"Oh, no, my son," she said viciously. "No one's going to take you away. I'll get the police and they will take him away, him and his perverted lover."
I was wide-eyed, staring at Shelly and his mother. So, he had ratted on us, and, of course, blamed me for everything.
I inched to the front door, Shelly and his mother inched back out of my way, with a cunning silent smirk on Shelly's face.
I tore open the front door and heard his mother shouting, "Run, you pervert, run, but you won't have far to go, that's for sure. Teaching my innocent boy these horrible things..."
I raced to the corner, constantly looking behind me, but their front door remained shut and no one came after me.
But on First Avenue I recognized Pani Stetz, walking up the block of her building, her dress still swaying back and forth on her legs. I bit my lips, thinking the hell with Shelly's mother, and raced back in her direction, coming right up to her as she reached the door.
She was surprised, "Oh, it's you. So sorry in keeping you waiting." She glanced at her watch, "A little after three, no big deal," she said, smiling brightly, and entering the hallway. "The crosstown bus can be horrendous. Would you believe it takes half an hour to get across Fourteenth Street from Eight Avenue, what should take fine, ten minutes."
I nodded and followed her up the stairs but looking to see if anyone was standing on her stairs; no one was. Pani Stetz saw me glancing up the stairway as she was opening her door.
"Looking for your friend?" she asked, but I recognized the smirk on her face.
"He's not my friend. I just see him now and then in Tompkins Square Park."
"Well, I'd keep away if I was you," she said, nodding her head. "The hell with their fake niceness, it's all a sham. But don't worry about him, I suppose that mama's boy is inside." She shook her head and sighed, kicking her shoes off. "I should call him what he really is, a flaming homo but don't you dare say where you heard it from."
She winked and made a drink for herself. "You want one?"
I shook my head, "No, no, ma'am, uh huh."
She shrugged and sat down on her couch.
"What did that homo do to you?"
"He said stupid things about me," I said, relieved I was talking with someone who seemed to understand. "Things that he's making up as he goes along. You're right, that boy's a sissy liar, said I dragged to an apartment where they did dirty things to him."
She shook her head, taking puff after puff and snuffed her cigarette out.
"I once saw him a few weeks ago," she added, "as I was going to my optometrist on Avenue C. Him and a man entered a building. And the man took his hand. They were holding hands as they climbed the stairs, imagine that!" She shook her head. "Now you tell me, who else but a homo would do such a thing?"
I turned red but breathed out. Certainly, she was talking about Dickie leading Shelly into his apartment building.
"Wow, you saw him?"
She nodded. "Uh huh, it was him alright. But I didn't say anything to his mother, what would I say anyway. The boy's old to know what's what. If he wants to be a homo, well, that's his choice, he knows what he's doing." She looked at me, and smirked, "Sucking cock..."
I gulped and turned red, blushing and feeling very awkward, too. I had never heard the words homo or cock spoken by a woman, though once I did hear little girls chanting it as they skipped a rope, but there was something silly in the way pronounced the words, hemo, cack...
I grinned at her, feeling my erection rising.
"They do that," I said, looking at her, "suck each other's cock?"
"Uh huh," she nodded her head. "But what a waste, why, that's a woman's job, her mouth was made for a man," and she winked, "made for that purpose, sucking cock," and she carefully looked at me. "Besides other things she can do with her mouth, you know?"
I swallowed, hardly breathing but my prick was pushing upwards, as her fingertips kept playing with the chest edges of my T-shirt.
"Bet you have many girlfriends, no?" she asked, pressing herself to me.
I was sitting at her couch hearing the kitchen sink dripping, clip clop, clip clop... I knew I should have at least tried to fix the drip...
Her arms were around me.
"Do you ever think of one girl and going with her all the way? You can tell me..."?
My God, what was she asking, of course, I think of girls, who doesn't? Every woman or girl I pass on the street I'm fucking her. I think about them all the time...yet I go with men, mostly into restrooms and now with one finally in his arms on his bed...So, was I queer, or wasn't I? Of course, I am... Well, I think...
"We tried doing it, me and this girl," I lied, looking right at her. "But it didn't work." I shamefully lowered my head, now avoiding her eyes.
"What didn't work?" she asked, pushing away from me.
"You know that boy/girl thing," I looked at her. "She bit too much."
"Huh, what do you mean?" she said, gazing back and forth, from my mouth to my eyes.
"You know, she scratched and bit me up, that blood came out."
"Aww, poor baby," she gushed, stepping much closer that I felt her fingertips tweaking my hard crotch. "Let me see, I promise I won't bite." She took me by the hand. "But let's go to the other room."
She led me to the couch in the living room. "Girls can be so crude, if they don't know what they're doing. Now, let me see..." and she reached for my zipper, pulling it down my dungaree pants.
I had given up on my fear, just letting her do what she wanted, but winced as her reaching for my stiffly erect cock.
"Oh, my, my..."
The cock as beautifully erect but with red splotches scattered about the shaft, the uncut skin covering the top in a loose fold of skin. She frowned, as she moved down the couch and got to her knees before me.
"Tsk, tsk," she made a sound, clicking her tongue and lips together. "I'll take care of you, baby," and she lowered her head. Her fingers moved around my penis and moved them up and down. "Ugh, what's this?" And she sat up, instantly letting go of my dick and rubbing her palm on her chest.
"Just medicine I put on, to keep it burning too much."
"Medicine, what kind of medicine?"
"Vaseline," I answered.
She laughed. "You call that medicine?" Bet you that the boy upstairs knows what that medicine is really used for, taking it up the ass!"
And she took a tissue from a box at the side of the couch and wiped clean of the Vaseline then tenderly reached for my penis again. My eyes widened.
So, this is what Dickie was eventually trying to do with his Vaseline, enter me from the rear, fuck me in the ass!
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Those namby-pamby homos rub it around their assholes then push their dicks in. I'm sure they need some gel, or you won't get in at all."
"Gel...is Vaseline a gel?"
She nodded. "If anyone wants to use gel on you, you'd better watch your ass, honey."
"My mom has some in her medicine chest."
"Well, that's different. Mom is mom. I'm talking about some homos; you never know about them." And she shook her head. "Why are we talking about them for?" she said, holding my penis right before her. She pulled the skin back, exposing the raw red muscle.
"Poor baby," she cooed and dipped her head to the stiffened organ. But she looked up. "You know, a woman's saliva is the best medicine..." and she instantly swallowed my organ.
I melted, but within moments I felt that stirring in my balls, quickly rushing to the tip of my cock and spitting itself out, right in her mouth!
And not once did her teeth brush against my cock. I was delirious, ecstatic, spilling out my semen down her throat. And she swallowed every drop and not once did I feel any teeth on me. The woman was ideal!
But I was quickly drained, wasted. She sucked my cock, then must have realized it was weakening and let it plop from her mouth; a dribble of semen and saliva cascaded down her chin, as she wiped it off with the back of her hand.
"Whew, that was good," she said, and smiled at me. "Delicious, really, but you sure are fast, aren't you?" and she winked at me.
"Sorry," I mumbled, "was too excited.
"Well, don't be," she said, pushing herself up. "Oh, my, look at the time..."
I glanced at the flowery wall clock --4:15 it read.
"Have to be out by six," she said, brushing her dress and winking at me. "Got to change, have a date tonight, hope he's as good as you were," and she winked again.
"Oh, right," I said, rising and inserting my penis and zippering up.
She looked at me and bit her bottom lip. "But come back tomorrow, you hear? Come back early, around ten or so."
"Sure, I'll be here. Anytime you want."
"You gotta pee, the bathrooms there...?" she pointed, and I went, and a beautiful yellow pee spat out, Ahhh...
She stood in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette.
"You're my boyfriend now," she said, squeezing and holding m hand. Our lips met and I kissed her deeply. But she broke from me.
"Tomorrow, baby, just wait till tomorrow, I have something more to teach you." And she again winked and tongued her lips and opened the door.
Upstairs I heard footsteps descending on the stairs. Shelly's mother stopped and looked at us. She saw Pani Stetz holding my hand and looking up at her. Shelly's mother was about to say something but angrily turned and climbed stairs back up; all we heard was the slamming of her door.
I looked at Pani Stetz, but she shook her head and waved her hand dismissively.
"Tomorrow, come after ten."
She closed the door, and I looked up at Shelly's apartment; I happily trotted down the stairs.
Chapter 24
At around six pm I was in Tompkins Square Park. It was the usual evening crowd --kids playing and running, people coming home from work, the benches filling with idlers and gazers.
But it seems that with Dickie opening my eyes --his trying to stick his cock in my mouth and ass-- the world now seemed very different from what I envisioned before.
Eash idler was staring at the possibility that another idler also staring right back at him. And my stroll in the park had become a display, a show-off tease, a flirtation with other lookers staring at me. Under each adult sitting on a bench, there was also the potential possibility of a user and abuser of a naive teenaged boy.
Somewhere in the unpeopled paths, along Avenue B, I collapsed onto a bench, my penis hard and stiff. Amazing that just a while ago I was with Pani Stetz, and I was ready to do it with her again. If there were a way, I could satisfy that sexual hunger in me I certainly would do so. Just whip it out, give myself what would be a normal run-of-the-mill jerking-off.
I scratched my hard crotch and looked to the Men's Room, a short distance away. A few men went in and out as I awkwardly stood up, staggering to the restroom.
When in the doorway I walked right into Dickie, hurriedly coming out. We exchanged looks but he bolted away, leaving me looking after him in confusion. He sped down the walkway on Ninth Street, turned onto and disappeared on Avenue B.
Now what was that all about? I shook my head and entered the dimly lit restroom.
As usual, the smell of disinfection permeated the entire facility. No matter how many times the urinals were flushed, mere water wasn't enough to clear the room of the smell of urine, a poisonous but crisp biting stench signifying the first sign of stagnation, followed by the victorious smell of shit. If not for the constantly rising waters the place would make you retch.
I went to the urinals when I heard puking and gagging. Water flushed and the gagger spat out a few more times. I turned and saw a teenage boy staggering out of the urinals, holding on to the edge of the cubicle, his yellowish T-shirt sprinkled with looked like droplets of water. But I suspected it was Dickie's cum.
I took a few steps towards him, with my penis out and aimed at him. The boy gazed at my erect muscle, his mouth watering, until he gagged and exploded in vomit once again. I quickly zippered up and was out of the restroom.
Outside, I thought to wait and see what the boy did now. But what was I waiting really for? I wasn't like Dickie, enticing kids up to his apartment, where the young kids were more than ready follow him to his bed and give themselves up so willingly. That's what I had done a few days ago, and boy, had my world changed! I shook my head. No way did I want to do that again!
I turned and walked out of the park, heading west on Ninth Street. The bars and clubs along Avenue A were all filling up with loud argumentive talkers and drinkers.
This was the way that people lived, they work, they labor all day long then spend whatever time they have left, drinking. What a way to live...
But I was going to do the same one day, in these bars or defiantly in others. Anyway, what difference did it make?
On Ninth Street and First Avenue I chucked, remembering a few years ago when I had been overcome by some big boys who dragged me over to a gushing johnny pump where I was deluged by a stream of powerful water.
I staggered home, drenched, my face contorted with continuous sobbing and crying as the big boys laughed and hooted at my shame.
Oh, stop being such a baby, they laughed. It's only water! followed by more hooting and scorn, and on they went...
I smirked, lost in my thoughts, when I heard, "Sissy creep!"
I looked up; it was Shelly, walking along First Avenue. He made a face and gave me a fig sign, fingers curved in with the thumb inserted between the index and middle fingers, in an obvious obscene gesture.
"Namby-pamby!" I said after him.
An elderly man walking up First Avenue scowled and shook his head. "Takes one to know one," he mumbled.
"That's him," I said, pointing at Shelly. "A real namby-pamby; wants to wear girl's clothes."
"Oh, really, now?" The man paused and looked at Shelly who had already crossed the avenue, his tight jiggling ass behind him. The man looked back at me. I was staring after Shelly and the man stepped up his speed and followed him.
I shrugged and went home.
More to come on the upper right...or you can read the eBook now, click here:
THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
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