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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 27
About a block on the street, I realized I was still holding the bag as I was making my way to Tompkins Square Park. I stopped near the entrance of the bus garage on Eleventh Street, off First Avenue, just as a bus rolled in for repairs, I suppose. I stared at the old tired looking bus, the weary bus driver looking as beat as the conveyance which carried him in.
I recalled how at school we had to make things up that we wanted to become. Many of the boys said Doctor or Lawyer, while the girls mentioned Nurse or Teacher. When it was my turn, I boldly said Bus Driver, which was followed by explosive guffaws loud dismissive laughter. Still, at the time, that's what I wanted to be, a Bus Driver.
I walked to Tompkins Square and took a seat near the kid's playground, Pani Stetz's bag beside me. What was in the bag, I wondered, household trash or diamonds? I rolled the top open and peered in.
A red blouse glimmered at me. I lifted a corner of the folded blouse. Another merry orange-colored one followed, with two of three more trying to push their way to the top. Whew, was I hard! I rubbed my crotch.
The nearness of the woman's clothes was amazing, I felt as if Pani Stetz was disrobing article by article, a blouse, a bra, a panty...and giving me her femininity.
I sat, rocking my leg back and forth, really a spasm, thinking of how I would look in the clothes. God, I'd look nice, that's for sure. Sexy and seductive...
Still. I rocked my legs harder, faster, anyway, no one was eyeing me. I nudged my cock to stretch upwards but still held in my pants. God, it feels tight! I was gripped by an inner explosion. Oh, no, I was cumming, and barely touching myself, and cumming right in my pants!
The orgasm gripped me, doubling me over and tearing through my belly, feeling the ooze, spilling onto my drawers and pants. Wow! Then again, but a weak spasm, melting me in a release relaxation and contentment.
Oh, man, that was nice, real nice... I smacked my lips, opened my eyes, and saw the park was the same as when I had closed them, but my hand had eased itself into the clothing bag.
Wish I could take them back to Pani Stetz, but no, she didn't want them... Then I realized, Dickie's the only one I can leave them with. Dickie can give the clothes to Shelly, or whoever he has in his bed. I should take them to Dickie.
I clenched the bag, got up, amazed at my semen ooze spreading all over my crotch, and headed in the direction of Dickie's house.
Chapter 28
Of course, Dickie wasn't in --I knock two or three time trying to stir him; I wonder who's in bed with him now-- and finally set the bag down.
Clothes for Dickie, I smirked, gazing at the soft pretty blouses in the bag. And all belonging to a big-breasted woman who wore them once, but now was left with a pink negligée...
Wow was I hard again! I looked at a shut door down the hallway. Standing and pressing my side against the wall, I'd hear if anyone was coming up or going down the stairs.
I reached into the bag and pulled out a light-colored blouse, orange, really. But a woman's blouses or their clothes in general, are indecipherable to a male. What color, what style, what fashion? To a woman they are very natural; a woman knows if it will fit, that it will look good on her, and that men's eyes would surely drop at the sight of her. Of course, she still would spend hours and hours just looking and searching out for the correct mysterious fabric that was made just for only her.
I rubbed the linen on my chest, raising it up to my face. Oh, God, was that her lovely scent emanating from the blouse?
I moved it back down to my chest, inching it down to my cock, un-zippering my pants and pulling out my hard moist cock, still damp from my previous cumming. Good thing I wore my usual dark dungarees, any stain would certainly be unclear.
I gripped my palm around the cramped muscle, while holding on to the orange blouse, with barely five or six strokes I again felt that beautiful instantaneous rushing of semen barreling through my cock and desperately seeking a release.
At that moment, I heard someone moving --going up or going down, I didn't know-- but I doubled downwards, trapping my cock against my belly and jean??s.
With a force I never felt before, a spasm gripped and held me so strongly to where I no longer cared what was right or what was wrong, much less who may be watching.
I straightened somewhat, letting the blouse drop to the floor and focused my eyes. An elderly woman stood at her door at the opposite end of the hallway, looking at me open-mouthed while the scum dribbled out of my cock.
"Oy gevalt!" she exclaimed in Yiddish. "What's wrong with you? And doing it right in people's doorway. You should be in jail, you pervert!"
By then I had zippered up and tripped over the bag of women's blouses I had brought for Dickie, leaving them scattered about the hallway as I ran down the stairs.
"Help!" the woman screeched. "This pervert boy was masturbating! Help police, perverts, help!"
Fortunately, it was a workday with not many people opening doors, but a woman with an infant in her arms did peer out of one of the lower floor apartments as I sped down another flight of stairs; finally, was out and racing up the street.
On the corner I bent down to re-tie my sneakers and catch my breath. Not one person came out of their doors to look why I was running... I stood up, shrugged and went to Tompkins Square Park.
Well, I won't be going to Dickie's place anymore, that's for sure. Even though he expected me to take Shelly's place and dress in the frilly female clothes he had in his apartment. Fat chance I'd be going back. But what frilly female clothes did he have anyway? All I saw were a few negligées in his closet and I wore one... Silly sissy, I shook my head, at least he'll have the ones I brought for him and his girls, Pani Stetz's clothes.
I smirked and walked through Tompkins Square, falling onto a bench. Was this the same bench I was sitting on when I had cum in me jeans? No, I thought, rocking my legs, at least I don't think it was. I rubbed my hard crotch. I'm probably diseased or sickly demented for being so hard, ready to cum at any moment of the day. So, what? I shrugged.
I stood up and walked to Second Avenue, passing by Pani Stetz's and Shelly's apartment building and saw the treetops of the park in the near distance.
Second Avenue Park was my goal now; no playgrounds or kids there, that's for sure.
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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