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THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
Lambda Award Winner 2012
The Facialist
A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side
by Mykola Dementiuk
Chapter 15
In the middle 1960s if someone had said I was attracted to females when at the same time I was going off with men, I would have stressed that it was nothing but faulty psychological reasoning.
Yet that's exactly what I was, a queer boy still hardening at the sight of a sexy female. I don't know what it was, but I was desperate for both. Soft females, hard males, my penis was erect for each.
I was already stiff with Pani Stetz leading me up the stairs and stayed stiff throughout, but when I saw Shelly, my mouth dropped open, as his did too, and my penis leaped and hardened even more.
"Oh, you two know each other?" said Pani Stetz, looking at us curiously.
"No, I don't," blurted Shelly, very red-faced but staring at me.
I shrugged. "We've seen each other," I muttered, "in the park."
"Well," Shelly's mother exclaimed, "you two boys are now friends. And without even knowing it. Small world; indeed, isn't it, Mrs. Stetz?"
Pani Stetz also nodded. Yet Shelly's mother gestured her aside whispering, but loud enough for me to hear, "Mrs. Stetz, please put something on. You don't want to give the boy any ideas." She coughed and turned to Shelly. "Let's go, son, dinner is waiting."
I glanced at Shelly, but he had already turned and was following his mother up the stairs. I was ecstatic. Small world, indeed! I certainly was going to be back here, but how?
Pani Stetz, still in her tight bra, was handing me the fifty cents when I noticed the dripping water from her water tap.
"You really should get someone to fix that for you," I said, gesturing to the dripping water.
"What?" she asked, obviously thinking of something else but looking at me; she turned to the sink. "Oh, yes, the dripping water. I need a man in this apartment. Everything's got to be fixed." She stood with her arms akimbo looking at me, her stance uplifting her breasts to the side, but they were still big, moist and round.
"I'll do it," I blurted. "All it really needs is a tightening. You got a wrench?"
"A what?"
"A wrench, like the plumbers use on their pipes?"
She looked at me, shaking her head.
"You silly boy," she smiled, "now what would I be doing with a wrench? Do I look like a plumber?" And she stood looking at me with her moist meaty breasts bulging in her bra. I was very uncomfortable and lowered my head.
"No, you don't," I said, feeling very stupid.
"Listen," she brightened. "Come back tomorrow. I'll have the...thinga-ma-jig or whatever you call it..."
"Wrench," I said, blushing.
"Wench?" she answered, cunningly staring at me and stressing the non-letter r in the word.
"Wrench," I answered, turning red again.
"Okay, wrench," she giggled. "How about tenish, tomorrow? You can fix it then."
I brightened. "Sure, I'll be here, around ten?"
She licked her red lips and smiled, "And I'll have your big...wrench," she stressed, and added, "and whatever you may need, sweety."
I swallowed as she slowly closed her door.
I stood a moment rubbing my hard dick in my pants then looked up to where Shelly had wandered into. My penis was very stiff, thinking of one while getting it from the other, Shelly and Pani Stetz.
I rubbed myself and trotted down the stairs.
Chapter 16
I walked down First Avenue feeling good, smiling at the coincidence of Pani Stetz taking me to her apartment and my meeting Shelly there. That puts things in a different light, doesn't it?
I continued down First Avenue and was about to cross St. Marks Place when I caught Dickie sauntering across the avenue, his tie and shirt loosened and a jaunty summer hat roosting atop his head.
I slunk behind a newsstand as he continued on St. Marks. It was close to five-thirty, and he probably was going home from work. I watched him a moment then stealthily went after him.
As I suspected, Dickie strolled on the street, passing apartment buildings with their windows wide open and fans, that could be seen, blowing like crazy.
On Avenue A, across the street from Tompkins Square Park, Dickie paused and looked at a summer-shorts-clad boy crossing the avenue. The boy was probably ten, eleven years old (same age as I was in Coney Island), but I recognized the boy's innate femininity, that Dickie recognized as well.
Dickie's eyes followed after the boy but when he saw me, he blushed and grinned. "Well, well, fancy meeting you here," Dickie said, bracing his hat back and adjusting his glasses.
I shrugged but didn't say anything, trying to walk away.
"You're still not mad about yesterday, are you?" putting a hand on my shoulder and stopping me. I looked at him.
"Kinda..." I muttered.
He rubbed my shoulder. I suspected his arm around me wanted to pull me in for a kiss...but this was St. Marks Place, and he couldn't do such a thing on the street.
"Well, don't be," he frowned. "Being mad at someone and not saying anything is a waste of your time and energy. Confront the person, say what's on your mind, you'll feel much better when you do." He tenderly stroked my shoulder. "Anyway, you'll sleep much better. Believe me, I know."
I looked at him. "How come your name's Freddie, when you told me it's Dickie?"
"Hmm, you like Dickie better? Okay, I do too. Dickie it is," and he rubbed my shoulder and softly said, "I like dick, your dick, I know you do, too."
"I suppose," I mumbled, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. We were mid-block, standing close to an Avenue A bar, you could see men were drinking inside.
"Timmy, you want to come up to my place, we're almost there," he quietly said, nervously looking into the bar. He pulled me away. We continued strolling on Avenue A, his arm still atop my shoulder.
"I can't," I nervously said, pushing his arm off. "Anyway, Shelly might be up there."
He laughed. "Sweet Shelly's okay," he said, lowering his voice and looking around. "But her time's just about up. Anyway, I adore shooting on your face. You look so adorable with my scum oozing down."
I blinked my eyes and tried to swallow but my throat was too dry. No, he just was leading me on... I shook my head.
"You don't like Shelly anymore?"
"No, no, don't get me wrong, I like Shelly very much, I adore Shelly. But you're special, you're new and different. Plus, your kissing is so much better, for a beginner," and he looked around. "You kiss for real. With Shelly it feels fake, fabricated, not authentic, wishy-washy." He shook his head. " Plus, his dick is too little. I know he's young, but c'mon, it doesn't feel like a real dick at all. You have a nice size, almost man-like. You'll be big when you grow up, just you wait and see." We looked at each other. "So, how about it, you want to come up to my place, sweetie?"
God, was I tempted to follow him!
But again, I shook my head. "Can't, gotta be home, mom's waiting."
He angrily let go of my shoulder and pushed me away. "Go to your mommy," he sneered and took a step away. "But you'll be back, that's for sure."
He turned and crossed the avenue, reentering Tompkins Square and quickly making his way to the restrooms. I sadly sighed, looking after him, but turned and made my way home.
I couldn't wait to see Shelly tomorrow.
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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