The Facialist, A Story of the Lower East Side

 

The Facialist

A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side

by Mykola Dementiuk

Lambda Award Winner 2012

complete and entire

Chapter 1

I was going to the bathroom, even though I didn't have to pee.

On Coney Island the bathrooms were under the boardwalk, so a user would have to walk over the beach, descend the stairs, and step down into the solitude, away from the peopled, sandy beach. 

I remember I was wearing a black cowboy hat --won from some carnie booth-- with nothing else on but a tight black bathing suit.

My parents had laid their blanket on the beach in the Ukrainian Village, a spot so-called because it teemed with Ukrainians, just as other areas along the beach were known as German Village, or Swedish, or Polish, or Greek, or Turkish. 

It was early 1950s, and people flocked to the beaches. There was no need to mention where I was going. Toilet Village --the term was unsaid and hushed; a misnomer that no one said too loudly. 

So, I took my hat and walked to where I had to go. I was a boy, so why couldn't I do it in the ocean like all the other people --kids, men and women-- were obviously doing? No, I walked straight ahead to the restrooms of Toilet Village. After all, I was a gentleman. I was almost ten years old and certainly old enough to know where I was going. 

I entered the crisply clean restroom with other men who came down from the boardwalk, took their leaks with a jiggle, and returned upstairs to continue their sunny afternoon strolls. I was barefoot, clad only in a bathing suit and cowboy hat. A few of the men, standing and peeing, looked at me curiously as I made my way past the urinals, past a few stalls, and entered the last, door-less cubicle of the restroom. 

How did I know where I was going? Had I been there before? There was nothing to do but take a seat. I lowered my bathing suit all the way to my feet and roosted fully naked, still wearing my black cowboy hat. My little prick was fully erect and rising up from between my legs, aching for a release, but from what, I didn't know or understand.

I sat there maybe two, three, four minutes, listening to the sounds of men coming and going, constantly flushing urinals and going back outside. Then I heard footsteps coming closer to me cubicle. Tension gripped my belly. I looked up at the surprised face of an elderly man looking at me. 

Was he so elderly or maybe I was so young? He turned back to look at the urinals he passed, still flushing, then he stepped into my stall. I was uneasy but wondering about the nervous tingling sensation in my belly. 

The man smiled faintly at me, I smiled back at him and lowered my eyes as if I was a shy, good boy, which I was at the time. Suddenly, he touched my shoulder. I looked up at him. He raised a hand up to his lips with his forefinger, showing I shouldn't make a sound. 

I nodded my head, agreeing to his silent instructions. The rubbing of my shoulder grew stronger and more forceful as he bent down and reached between my legs. 

I assumed he wanted to rinse them in the toilet water, so I spread wider, my stiff little penis poking up. His mouth opened, his eyes widened, and I felt his hand gently grip the hairless erection and start to squeeze, moving his fingers to the scrotum, and his hand up and down. 

Somehow my legs had dropped out of my bathing suit and went around the man's legs; the cowboy hat had eased itself off my head and hung from my neck by a slim colored cord. The man straightened up and bit his lips, standing before me as if undecided what to do.

We looked at each other; our mouths open, then the man lowered his zipper and reached in for his penis. I watched mesmerized as the muscle rose up and out of the material of his pants. Big and red and explosive it hung before me and he quietly said, "You want a big surprise?" and he winked at me. I nodded. "Remember, keep your eyes closed or the secret may not work, okay?"

I nervously looked at the man. 

What could it, I thought, this big surprise? 

I nodded and shut my eyes. Something brushed against the side of my lips and pulsed my nose. I wanted to look but remembered what he said that it may not work...

I heard constant, repetitive, beating, fumbling before me. "Keep them closed," he muttered. "Yes, like that, closed. Remember, a surprise..."

Whatever was brushing against my face and lips suddenly ejected a moist watery wetness, like the cooling sprinkle of soda pop shimmering across my face.

"Oh, God! Keep them closed, kid, don't look," the voice reminded me. "Oh, honey, yes!"

I don't know what it was, the soothing voice telling me keep my eyes shut or the constant flush of the urinals, but I suddenly felt and smelled the awesome, wonderful scent of freshness and soothing peace, very much like morning dew, rising up to my face that I was overcome by it.

Then the thing left the vicinity of my mouth and brushed the sides of my face. His hesitant voice said, "Closed, keep them closed, kid." 

I heard footsteps hurrying out of my stall, pitter-patter past the urinals, and vanish through the opening-closing front door. 

I sat there with my eyes shut, waiting for him to return with my big surprise. I felt something oozing down my face. 

Suddenly, I heard the door opening and footsteps slowly moving nearer. I heard a flush, then steps slowly moved across the restroom to where I was sitting, my eyes shut and my stiff penis poking out before me.

"Can I open then now?" I meekly asked.

"Jesus, what the hell?" a different voice responded.

I snapped my eyes open. 

Another man stood before my stall. A hint of embarrassment swept over me as I recognized the man. I had seen him many times in the area of the Ukrainian Village, walking on the beach, talking to acquaintances, and even a few times nodding to and greeting my parents. 

Like me, he was clad in a tight bathing suit. It shone brightly and provocatively on his well-developed, muscular sun-tanned body. I saw that his penis was very hard. I blushed and lowered my face. 

"You're one of ours, aren't you?" he said, in Ukrainian.

I nodded and pulled my bathing suit over my hard erection, then reached for my cowboy hat. "Uh huh," I grunted. Again, I felt hands on my shoulders.

"Shouldn't you be with your parents?" he said softly. "Where are they?"

"In the Village," I answered, feeling I was speaking too much.

He looked at me as if he wasn't sure of what to do with me, but then he bit his lips and clutched my shoulder. "I'll walk you back," he said softly. "You shouldn't be here, at least not be yourself." And he looked curiously at me. "What's that on your face?" he asked, staring much closer. "Oh, God, was someone with you just now?" He looked to the front door. "What a bastard," he mumbled as if to himself and shook his head. "And with a little kid, too." He blinked his eyes. "Wipe that smelly gooey stuff off. It's disgusting, all over your face and mouth."

I brushed my face against my shoulders and went to the sinks near the front of the restroom. I sprinkled water on myself and then we shuffled back across the sandy beach to Ukrainian Village. 

Strangely, I felt at peace with the Ukrainian man walking beside me and holding my hand, the other man already forgotten and receding from my memory when I saw my parents looking worried at our approach. My father leaped up and scurried to us. Though they knew each other, my parents were aloof with the man.

"He's a faggot," my father once muttered as the man swished along and went back to reading his paper. 

I don't know what they said to each other, but we left the beach early that afternoon. Still, I couldn't help but regret I never received a surprise for keeping my eyes closed as the man said for me to do. 

What could it have been? I wondered, as we walked back to the subway train, but I kept turning about and looking back for what I had not received. 

Chapter 2

In the next few years there often occurred incidents and accidents where a paw turned into a grope, a feel into a stroke, a touch into a clasp. What had been mine suddenly became theirs so easily because I pretty shrugged and gave of myself, standing aloofly as their hurried feeling and groping went about my body. A kiss, a lick, a jiggle, and they'd be gone.

At a wedding my parents took me to, I quickly grew fed up with the people saying how handsome I looked my brand-new blue suit. I sulked and wandered off, and found some secretive, enclosed shut-off banquet room. I had seen Uncle Vladik drinking and toasting with the other celebrants, but now I came upon him holding a bottle in one hand and beating his penis with the other. 

I heard him grunting and mumbling to himself, "You slut whore, suck my dick!" 

He opened his eyes and saw me standing in the doorway. My first thought was to flee, to get away from him, but his face gleamed as he smiled and leered at me. 

"Hey, c'mere, kid, how'd you like this?" He jiggled his penis in his hand. "Come and get it," 

I didn't say anything, watching as if mesmerized. He swallowed a drink from the bottle and said, "C'mere, kid, don't be afraid, you know me, I'm your Uncle Vladik." I nodded. "Shut the door, shut the door. C'mon, I have something for you."

"What?" I asked, shutting the door and stepping closer.

"This," he said, pulling the skin back on his cockhead and displaying the meaty, juicy muscle. I stared open-mouthed at it. 

"You like? Take it in your hand. That's it, you like? Oooh, yesss....That's what it's meant for, and don't let anyone tell you different...Jerk me off, baby."

Needless to say, I did as I was told, holding the stiff penis before me as it pulsed and prodded just inches from my face and mouth.

After a few strokes on the meaty organ he said, "You fucking whore!" with his eyes shutting, "Cocksucker!" 

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him, all the while pounding my face and chest against his torso. 

"Bitch!" I felt his hand gripping my head as his spewing cock spat out on my chin. Then I smelled it, that enticing, charming dew-like fragrance of the man in Coney Island. 

I melted, swooning from the lovely fragrance, ready to drop, when he pushed me off. 

"What's wrong with you, kid? Get a hold of yourself," he said, and quickly reinserted his penis back in his pants. "You shouldn't be doing this." He shook his head. "You don't know me, junior, and I don't know you. Got that?" He sternly looked at me. I had no idea what I could've done. I slowly nodded. "You got some gook on your chest," he said, and pointed a finger at me. I looked down. Wet droplets were sprinkled on my brand-new blue suit. "Just tell anyone who wants to know, you spilled soda, that's all. Got that? Soda, nothing else."

I nodded but asked, "Root beer? I like root beer."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." He looked at me and nervously bit his lip. "Now I don't know you and you don't know me, we weren't together," he repeated. "Got that, kid?" He patted my shoulder and left me behind in that room. I stood some moments listening to the party going on downstairs. I was confused and uncertain but left the room and went back to my parents. 

"What's that," asked my mother, "what did you spill on yourself?"

I instantly replied, "Root beer, I spilled some root beer."

"Good thing it was that," she said, laughing and rejoining her conversation with her acquaintances. 

The rest of that evening, I kept looking after Uncle Vladik, but didn't see him anywhere."

Chapter 3

I was fifteen when Princess, a woman from the neighborhood, tried to take me to her apartment. I was nervous and scared as hell, because what if someone saw me with her? Well, with him? Because Princess was a man who pretended to be a woman, wearing feminine clothes and makeup and lipstick, which didn't ger her many dates, but laughter and derision from the local street boys. She couldn't pass as a woman because she wasn't one --or so I thought. Yet a few times I had seen men walking with her to her building, even once holding hands as they talked and laughed and then disappeared behind her front door.

I had darted in to take a leak in the men's rest room in Union Square Park and was zippering up when there stood Princess near the doorway, obviously a man in a dress but with makeup decorating his face, as she played with her bracelets and licked her lips. I turned red, embarrassed she had entered a men's room in her disguise, but she smiled and leered at me.

"Hey, big boy, fancy meeting you here," she lisped and then just stood there, blinking her eyes at me.

I blushed as I started rinsing my hands, "This is a Men's Room," I said, thinking I was clever. "Women not allowed..."

She pouted and stepped closer to me. I could feel her fake breasts--nothing but tissues, it seemed--pressing against my upper arm and body.

"Aw, but I thought women would be in this room where men are," she said, putting her hand on my chest and rubbing it up and down--I felt my nipples and cock stiffening with excitement.

I was very hard in my pants and all I wanted to do was be off by myself so I could jerk off, when her leg pressed against my knees and started rising upwards towards my crotch. 

"Leave the boy alone," a stern voice suddenly said, and shaking his head, the man added, "And in the Men's Room, too. Disgusting. They shouldn't let homos in here. Go where you belong, with your own kind."

Princess glared back at him. "Fuck you, you old fart," she cursed. "I'm as much of a homo as you are! At least I show it while you pretend that you're not. Asshole!" And she grabbed my arm and pulled me outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. 

I didn't say a word, just obediently followed wherever she was taking me, hoping we could get to her apartment before someone recognized me with her. But on Third Avenue, outside of the Sahara Hotel, she stopped and shook her head. 

"I can't take you in there..." she said, biting her lower lip. "You look like a kid, how old are you anyway?"

"Fifteen," I hopefully answered.

She frowned. "Damn, if they ask, I'll only get in trouble."

"But I thought we were going to your apartment on Third Street?"
 I said, looking sadly at her. 

She snorted. "Hah, fat chance of that! They threw me out." She lit a cigarette. "Staying in this dumpy hotel..." and she blew out the smoke. We looked up at the Sahara Hotel, already looking like a used and wasted whore. She let go of my arm. "Unless you know of a better place we can go," looking at me she quietly added. "Where it's private, you know what I mean?" And she winked.

But what the hell did I know? Never before had anyone asked me about privacy or wanting a little time with me. I looked at her, and also bit my lower lip. 

"We can go up on the roof," I said, looking up at the buildings on Third Avenue. Many times, I had been up there on my own where I'd spend my time jerking off and no one ever saw me. "There's no one up there-- at least, I never saw anyone."

Princess snorted and looked up to the rooftops, "You think so?"

I nodded. She shrugged and took my arm, then passed by several buildings until we came to one, she liked. 

"I'll go first," she said at the bottom of the stairs. "That way you can look up my skirt, I have nylons on..." and she winked, raising the front of her skirt, showing off her nylon tops held by a garter clasp that disappeared under her skirt. She dropped the hem and started climbing the stairs. I followed her as her ass swayed before me. I began to slowly ease my zipper down. We made it up four flights, but as we started our last assent to the rooftop, a door opened, and an elderly woman stepped out. 

"Hey, you don't live here," she hissed in her old woman's voice. "Where do you think you're going? And with such a young boy..."

Princess frowned as if she had enough from the woman. "You can go to hell, you old bitch! None of your business where I'm going. I'm going where I want to!" They glared at each other, then Princess said, "Oh, the hell with this crap," and started heading back down. "Another time, kiddo," she said, "I knew this was going to be a waste." She pounded down the stairs. 

I sheepishly went after her, slinking past the old woman who was glaring at me. "Disgusting, a young boy like you," she said, shaking her head. "You know, that's an old man making believe he's a woman. You can't be that stupid, or are you?" She shook her head. "Jesus, nothing but a bunch of fairies," she bumbled and shut her door.

All I kept thinking was the imagined bliss of Princess's hand around my dick and beating...beating...beating...now lost and receding from my unfulfilled horniness.

But by the time I got to the second floor, with Princess still descending to the first floor, I couldn't help myself but pulled my hard and stiff little dick out of my pants. 

Her footsteps faded down the hall, then the street door opened and shut. Barely five or six strokes and felt that spasm gripping me to where I doubled over, the jism spewing out of me.

I was angry but zippered up and headed outside. The sun was shining, and a few people were walking up Third Avenue. I didn't see Princess. I cursed; angry, bitter, and frustrated. I hurried home, to my own rooftop, where I jerked off again and again and again...

Chapter 4

At the time we lived on First Avenue on the Lower East side, where we had a mean, grumpy, elderly Jewish landlord who always said he was going to do the repairs but never got around to doing them. 

One day there was nothing to do but sit on the stairs and nod hello to the tenants going up and down, some who smiled, others who mumbled, and those who told me to get out of their fucking way.

After a while I began to gaze up at the wall, a few markings and curse words were written there, not many, but enough for a looker to either smile at them or simply curse over. 

Then it hit me, I should write something there, too, but what? 

I went upstairs to my apartment and got a crayon, then quietly returned to the stairs. 

Maybe on the bottom wall where someone can read it or perhaps up above where few would even look? 

I knew where, on the second floor where the landlord's elderly Jewish sister lived, who was as cheap, evil, and grumpy as her younger brother was.

I crept down the stairs. Not a sound could be heard, all the tenants were out working or after other pursuits. It would be so easy, a few lines showing off a hairy penis and balls going into an open mouth. Almost instantly, I was hard. Concentrating on my artistic masterpiece, I did not hear anyone coming up the stairs. 

"Oy gevalt!" the landlord exclaimed behind me, in shock and surprise. "So, it's you who mark my walls. Just you wait till I tell your father, then he'll give to you."

"Oh, no, please," I begged, "this is the first time."

"He will give you a wicked spanking," Mr. Landlord erupted, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me down the stairs he had ascended. "He will teach you to never do that again."

Tears were coming from my eyes. "Please, no," I pleaded. "I didn't mean it, I'll be good." I couldn't stand the idea of my father finding out what I had done. 

He looked at me, still holding on to my arm. "You like drawing dirty pictures, do you now? It makes you hard and filthy, doesn't it?" And he pawed me between the legs. "Just as I suspected, you naughty, naughty boy." He felt my hardness as we descended down to the basement area, his hand gripping my neck and the other groping between the legs. I sniffled but didn't say anything. 

"Answer me!" he hissed, grabbing me by the other hand and holding me face to face. "You like making dirty pictures, don't you, a dirty boychick like you? I bet you do that in every hallway you go to, don't you?" Boychick was a Yiddish term I'd often heard in our neighborhood.

I shook my head. "No, I don't," I protested. "This was my first time, I swear, that's the truth."

He looked shocked. "You swear?! Mein Gott, that's even worse than making a filthy drawing!" His face was close to mine, the saliva falling from his lips to mine, when suddenly he kissed me. I was surprised but kissed him back, melting into his arms as he felt me up, unzipping and sliding my pants down. "Such a nice boychick, naughty too," he cooed, beating my dick, as I tried to do the same to his. A few thrusts and he exploded, the jism spewing out on my hand. I caught a whiff of fresh, morning dew-like smell. I shut my eyes and let my mouth drop open, waiting, hoping for his cum on my face. 

He stepped away, out of reach and said, "It's our secret, eh boychick?" I opened my eyes and nodded, once again letting myself get felt up until I came, spewing out my semen in his hands as he tenderly gazed at me. "Not a word of this to anyone, you hear?" he said. "And tomorrow, I'll do you again." And he winked, kissing me as he led me out of the basement. "And don't draw on walls," he sternly scolded, but added, " My little boychick."

For almost six months he did me, or should I say I did him, until he sickened and passed away from a stroke, leaving me unsatisfied and perturbed. Still, it was incredibly nice to get the hand-jobs while playing with his cock. But I longed for a little bit more, a touch, a caress, which he seldom gave. Besides his earlier kissing, there was no closeness or intimacy between us, Jew and Christian; he'd stroke, I'd cum, I stroked, he'd cum, and we continued with our day till the next time. 

Day after day I'd spasm from his masturbation then go off feeling frustrated and unsure of what had been going on There was no evidence of any closeness or affection; sure, he stopped demanding rent money from my parents whenever they were a day or two late, but towards me there was the same aloof coldness and unconcern except when he led me down the stairway for our daily trysts. And when he dropped dead, I didn't really care. 

Chapter 5

Some months later, while this was going on, Mrs. Stetz, or in Polish, Pani Stetz, who passed us by in the streets many times, asked my mother if it wouldn't have been nice if I had been born a girl instead of a boy and got to wear all the fineries that pretty girls wore?

I blushed and squirmed, looking at the woman as she babbled about how pretty it would make me look. At home she mentioned this to my father.

"Kurva! (whore)," he said. "She's an idiot," he fumed, but went on reading his paper and sipping his beer. My father called Mrs. Stetz, Mrs. Tits, because of her big breasts and her flaunting of them. "She's after something, that's for sure," he'd say, sipping his after-work beer.

But the idea of being dressed as a girl had me instantly aroused. I was fifteen at the time and masturbating every chance I could get besides with the landlord in the basement and getting his spunk in my face. 

The next day I wandered along the street on which Mrs. Stetz lived, but I didn't know which building she was in. People came and went out of various doors all through the day, but I didn't see her. 

What the hell would I have said to her anyway, that I would like to get dressed as a girl? 

I shook my head and was on the point of walking away when I saw her coming up the street. I crouched and awaited her approach, my cock very stiff and eager but for what, I didn't know. 

I heard her heels clicking. Oh, my God, please... I thought, as I watched her big breasts approach. She looked at me tiredly, then passed me by.

I jumped up and scurried after her. "Hello Pani Stetz, I saw you yesterday when I was with my mom..."

Her eyes crinkled when she looked at me and then she bit her lower lip. "Oh yes," she said, blushing. "You're the young man I admired..."

I blushed. No one called me a man before; I didn't know I was one!

I dropped my head, and said, "Uh huh, you said it'd be nice to dress me..." I lowered my voice, making sure no one heard me. "Like a girl." Again, I blushed and felt very embarrassed.

She also turned red and looked around. "I was talking to your mother," she quietly said, shaking her head. "Boys your age have girlish traits; with a little makeup and a dress it would be hard to tell the difference." And she laughed. "I didn't mean I wanted to do it to you, to be dressed like a girl. Did you think that?"

I felt very stupid and didn't say anything just turned and walked away; all the while thinking and imagining that she'd call after me, but she didn't.

Chapter 6

I saw the woman entering Tompkins Square Park and slowly walking along the path, which would take around the park, if she kept walking that way.

It being a cloudy and chilly day, not many people were sitting on the empty benches that lined the area. I was fascinated by her red skirt and the dark nylons shimmering up her legs.

I was instantly hard and began to walk after her.

It had been my sixteenth birthday just a week before and already the leaves beginning to fall and mass in piles along the trails which wove around the almost deserted park.

The young paused, glanced at her wristwatch, and dropped down on a bench, reaching in her handbag for a cigarette. I took a few more steps dropped onto a bench directly opposite from her.

Man, was I hard! It was the early 1960s, when hemlines were rising a little higher, but nylon tops could still be seen peeking from beneath. 

She looked at me and puffed on her cigarette, looking back and forth on the path. It was obvious she was waiting for someone, and it would be best I not be there when he arrived.

But I sat there, staring at her thighs, not able to see nigh or deep enough to catch a glimpse of her nylons coming to an end. A few times I even lowered myself to get a better look, but she crossed her legs and continued sucking on her cigarette.

I yearned for that sight --dark nylons and a glimpse of bare skin-- but now regretted the new pantyhose fashion that was coming along, which would eliminate the ongoing fantasy I carried of women clad in nylons and garter belts. That was all I wanted to see, fresh nylons and snapping garter belts. That was my dream and quest. Again, she crossed her legs.

Oh, my God! I glimpsed the whiteness of her thigh for an instant then darkness again as her red skirt settled on her thighs. 

She smoked ger cigarette, taking puff after puff, glanced around and once again stared at me. I hesitated, looking at her, and rubbed my stiff crotch, squeezing and pulsing. She stared at me as if mesmerized, her mouth open, her eyes enraptured with what she was seeing. I, too, was fascinated.  

Then she blinked and shook her head, flicking her cigarette away. A man was rushing in our direction. I stood up and quickly walked the other way, then turned back to look at them. The man was obviously trying to explain why he was so late, but the woman said nothing. She glanced in my direction and turned red.

Was something going to happen between us if the man hadn't come? I had to find a bathroom. And fast, too.  

Chapter 7

I was in the eighth grade at school; my parents had separated and gone their own ways, in opposite directions. I didn't care; I was growing up, enchanted --no, mesmerized by the breasts growing out of schoolgirl uniforms around me, which they carried so proudly. 

I would watch a pair of breasts, budding and puffing out, until the teacher whacked me on the head, "What's wrong with you?" as the class in erupted in laughter. I'd shrink from shame; grateful no one was aware of the growing lump in my pants. 

Many of the boys were also in such dire situations; arousals were everywhere, followed by quick masturbations. 

There was an old priest who forced boys to make their confessions which he didn't believe anyway, thus forcing the boys to make up stories for him, thus confessing to even worse made-up misdeeds. Of course, this led to constant imaginative fantasies that led to even more masturbation, of which all boys that age were guilty of. 

I was drawn into sex before I even knew what I was getting into. Wait a minute, drawn into? More likely I willingly jumped, plunged, drowned in sex and didn't want to look back... 

Still, of course, I was scared and uncertain of what I was getting into. Yet, I think I led the man who was after me by my adultness and my willingness to follow him... Plus he would give me twenty-five cents as payment and twenty-five cents in the early 60s was a great deal, wasn't it? Well, at least I thought so.

I was seventeen and already in high school, walking the paths of Tompkins Square Park, dreaming of girls and their legs in tight nylons. It was a dreary Saturday afternoon, dark and cloudy and I had nowhere to go but to walk the wet park lanes.  

I don't know if I had to use the restroom that drew me in or maybe the chilly coldness which dreary enough to get out of. I entered the dimly lit restroom. 

Almost instantly, the door reopened, and a man entered behind me. I had seen him around the park, slowly walking the paths, and assumed his walking led him to come in to take a leak. 

I thought nothing of it as he nonchalantly walked to the urinal right next to mine, unzipped his pants, and reached in for his penis.

I must have turned many colors as he stood slightly back from the urinal, clutching and holding the bright auburn penis muscle. I quickly glanced at it, mesmerized by the sight, my mouth slowly open, then shook my head and fled from the restroom.

Outside, I hurried along a walkway where I paused by a tree, watching the man come out of the men's room. What's wrong with me? I thought, steeling myself and walked in front of a tree, making myself visible. The man saw me standing across the park lane and lit a cigarette, slowly approaching me.

Memories...are they real or made-up as I try to recapture and rekindle the past, hopelessly? There are images of faces, each drawing me on, enticing, alluring. And I willingly jump and plunge after them. But am I in command of the situation or am I merely doing what's expected of me?

A few times, over the years, I had followed various men into their apartments after they treated me with a Coke or root beer, which I preferred, or even an ice cream cone as if the treat was a sort of payment for what was to come, usually twenty-five cents or once a while a surprising fifty cents, before I learned.  

But I'd leave rather quickly after that: a feel-up groping, a sucking, a swallowing, and I'd be gone. None of the men wanted me to stay. I'd shrug and disappear down the stairs. 

I don't know what we talked about in the park that day, but very quickly I was following him to an upstairs apartment on Fifth Street and Avenue C. It was small and cluttered, with protective gates on the windows. 

I remember looking at the threatening clouds and thinking, Good thing I'm here, in this dry and warm apartment before the rains come...

We sat on old torn couch, staring at the dreary, uncovered window. I remember he wore glasses that he continuously pushed up from his nose since they kept slipping down. 

But where did my reckless audacity come from when I reached up and slipped his glasses off his face? Did I finally have enough of seeing them sliding down on face?

Our lips met in an open-mouthed kiss, which was more than just a kiss, but a sucking and a swallowing of the other.

He took me by the hand and drew me into another small, cluttered room, where an unmade bed awaited us. I realized all my clothes were off, except my socks. He also was half-naked; a T-shirt at his chest, with nothing at the bottom, with his stiff penis swaying before him. He led me to the bed, but did nothing to entice or keep me there, merely lay at my legs with his face barely at my crotch.

I shrugged, looking down at him, and began to stroke my penis, expecting him to take it in his mouth. But he stared hungrily at it, his wet lips nudging closer to my scrotum. I saw his mouth open then fall to my scrotum, kissing and nibbling on my balls.

Oh, so very nice...

I was ready to cum, knowing my seed would spill out onto the bed, but I circled the top of my penis with my thumb and index finger, entrapping the heady boiling scum from spilling out. The entrapped spasms rocked my body, but I kept my sperm in, really not knowing what I would do with it.

I looked at the man who by then had swallowed my two balls and lay there contently with his eyes shut. I nudged him.

"I'm ready," I said, looking down at my dick holding my entrapped scum.

The man opened his dazed eyes as if coming to, letting my sucked-in balls pop out of his mouth --one by one-- as he stared at me. I moved my penis to his lips and mouth, letting go of the entrapped fluid, my scum spilling itself out onto his tongue and teeth, which he readily and greedily every drop.

After a bit, I nudged him. "I have to go, it's getting late."

My softened wet penis plopped out of his mouth. He licked his lips and looked sadly at me, scum still dribbling down his face. Incredible how morose and different he looked without his glasses. 

"Can you stay just a little longer?" he quietly asked.

I bit my lips and shook my head. "No, I really have to go."

He sighed and pushed himself up out of bed. I blushed but I his wet penis was still hard and stiff. I looked away. In the kitchen, I heard the rain beating against the windows.

He reached for his glasses and draped them around has face, immediately appearing more like himself. 

"It's raining," he said, nodding towards the window. "And a lot, too."

I shrugged, slipping my underwear on. "Yeah, looks that way."

My T-shirt went on as the man sat on the couch, rubbing and stroking his still hard cock. I reached for my pants and sat down to slip them on. 

"Please," he whispered, "don't go..." He held his bright red cock gripped in his fist. "You're so nice to be with. I know other boys, but you're so sweet."

He blushed and smiled at me. I awkwardly blushed and smiled back at him. We looked at each other and he let go of his penis. His muscle still stood erectly as if pleading for a touch and a clasp. I reached out and nervously circled my fingers around the stiff shaft. My clutching hand seemed very normal and natural. I squeezed, feeling the warmth and eagerness in my palm, lowering it and instantly it back up. I was jerking him off, as I had done many times with men, but this seemed very curious and natural, more like a normal state of affairs. 

He groaned, and his eyes were clenched tightly as his face grimaced, and I felt it, his semen shooting up his cock and exploding out of the frantic muscle. 

I was amazed; never had I felt anything like it before, and I didn't want to let it go. There were men before, but this was different. His scum shot out and dribbled from my face, streaking it with an explosive coolness/freshness that was the opposite from what I expected. But then I smelled it --morning dew, being reborn again-- that's the only way to describe it.

"Oh, man," he fluttered. "Whew, that was awesome. I really adore someone who jerks me off. Absolutely divine!"

I still held onto his wet penis but felt it weakening in my hand. We looked at each other and embarrassed, I let go. We both sighed but he smiled. I nervously smiled back at him, then wiped my wet scummy hand on the couch. He saw me and again I reddened. I shrugged, and almost at the same time, he shrugged too.

"We're birds of a feather," he said, smirking at me and pushing his glasses back. "We do everything together. We even think alike. You know what that says?"

I quizzically looked at him. "No, what...?"

"That we're a pair, nothing can separate us. We were made for each other."

I pulled up my pants and reached for my shirt. "You think so?" I said, buttoning up and slipping on my shoes.

"I know so," he answered, nodding his head. "You're just like me, you like cock."

It was as if a spasm went through me; accusing me of the truth I didn't want to hear. 

I like cock. As a matter of fact, I love cock!

I was mesmerized by the reality of it, thick and hard and luscious. And I'd follow anyone through a dim park, as I had done with him.

I fell down to the couch and looked sadly at the man.

"Don't be afraid," he said, as his arm around my shoulder, "It's only natural. It's time to learn, let me be your teacher, honey..."

We looked at each other and our faces met in the most natural thing in the world, a sweet kiss...

Chapter 8

When next I redressed, about an hour later, he said, "You can come back anytime you want, I'm always here. Plus, you have so much to learn. I can always teach you."

"Like what?"

"Like the proper way of sucking cock, you suck much too fast. Or when you try to take it up the ass. You can't be a real sissy if you can't do that."

"Well, maybe I'm not a sissy, you ever think of that?"

He grinned at me. "Oh, yes, you are, sweetie," he said, nodding his head. "Yes, you are..."

I looked at him. "You think so, but why?"

He grinned. "Two men going to bed together, now, what would you call that? Sounds like sissies to me..."

I winced but continued getting dressed. "Maybe we can meet in the park," I said, trying to change the subject. "Where we met today?"

"Sure, sweetie," he nodded, "If I'm not here," he shrugged, cleaning and blowing on his glass frames. "I'm always nearby, walking around, and looking for boys." And he winked at me.

I turned red. "What do you mean, looking for boys?"

He smirked. "I found you, didn't I?"

I grimaced. "Yeah, you did. You get many boys?"

He shrugged. "I'm always in the market for boys. I'll have extra room for a boy next week."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at me. "In one week, I'll have room for another boy. One comes, one goes. That's the nature of life, isn't it?"

I stared back at him. Interesting, whatever is going on in this room... But I shook my head.

"I'll have my money, now," I said, and waited. He smirked at me.

"Oh, yeah, money..." He reached in his pants pockets and jiggled a few coins. "A quarter isn't it," he snorted, "is that what you wanted?"

I nodded my head, the sudden redness burning my face. He flipped a quarter between his thumb and forefinger.

"A quarter isn't much, you know, for what we did." The coin flipped around his fingers like he was teasing someone, namely me. "All the other boys who have been up here ask for at least two dollars. Some even have even demanded three." The coin flipped onto his open palm, and he held it out to me.

I looked at the coin, so feeble and solitary, lying there next to his fingers. But how was I supposed to know what to ask for? A quarter seemed all right to me. At least it would buy me a soda, a root beer, or even French fries for fifteen cents. 

I again reddened and looked up at him, grinning so snugly.

"Hey, don't worry," he winked, "We just met, sweetie." He reached for his pants and retrieved a wallet. He flipped it open, pulled out a dollar and held it out to me.

I held out my arm to take it. "But you said you give the other boys two or three dollars...."

He flipped the wallet shut. "Come back next time and maybe I'll give you should be getting, two, three dollars, but now you get this..." And he held out the single dollar. 

I crumbled the dollar in my palm and stuck it in my pants pocket.

"Okay," I said, looking at him. "Till next time; I'll be back."

He shrugged. "And make sure you do." He put his arm around me. Give us a goodbye kiss, sweetie, okay?

I didn't care, I shut my eyes and felt his warm lips touch mine. Again, that tingling spasm rocked my body, the one that would make me do anything he wanted. And reminded me of my past Coney Island days... 

But he broke from me and led to the front door. He stood holding the doorknob, his naked penis all stiff and ready.

"By the way," he said, "What is your name, I didn't get that?"

"Timmy," I answered, making up a name and lowering head. I looked up. "What's yours?"

"Dick," he slyly smirked. "You like that, don't you?" We looked at each other. "Say it, I like Dick..."

I looked at him and bit my lip. "I like Dick," I mumbled.

"What? I can't hear you..."

I frowned but said it again, a little louder, "I like Dick."

"It's really Dickie, but we all know that you like dick, too. Say it again."

I sighed, getting peeved. "I like Dickie."

"No, no, dick, say I like dick."

I quietly mumbled, "I like dick," and blushed.

"I still can't hear you..."

"I like dick!" I repeated more loudly.

"Like?" he shook his head. "Don't you love dick, too? C'mon, say it..."

I winced but loudly exclaimed, "I like dick. Like dick spilling out on my face, wet and sticky scum. I really like dick!"

He dreamily stared at me. "But don't you love dick, too. Come on, you can say that..."

I leered at him, and quietly said, "I love dick. Yes, I love dick."

He tenderly smiled at me; I smiled back at him.

"That's my sweetheart," he said, pushing his glasses up and putting his hand on my shoulder. "I know you do, Timmy. I know you do." He winked and was about to open the door. "But remember, this is our little secret, no one has to know, alright? You can love Dickie in this room but outside it's a cruel and different world, you know that don't you? And of course, they wouldn't understand..." (what was he saying to me? I wondered) and he bit his lips and opened the door. 

I nodded and went down the stairs. Outside little raindrops remained, and a chilly autumn wind swept through the evening sky. I turned onto Avenue B. Dim lights hung on the pathways of Tompkins Square Park, but the restroom was closed. I hurried home.

Chapter 9

Next day I awoke feeling sore and wasted. Morning brightness shone into the room, and I rolled to the other side. Then I remembered Dick, or Dickie. I tore the blanket off me and surged to the bathroom. My mother looked at me as I staggered past her.

I don't know why it is, but I lowered my underpants and sat down. Mornings are my time for sitting, much like a girl does. It seems natural. While at other times I pee standing up but upon rising in the morning I have to sit back down again.

I felt the pee rising in my shaft, and marveled at its growing stiffness, too. My penis was hard and gently tapping the underside of the toilet seat.

I leaned back and let it surge upwards from my scrotum, aching to be grabbed and stroked, as I did through the night --five, six times.

Then I saw the gleaming red marks, streaks of dried blood where Dickie had gnawed and chewed me. What was so pleasurable, I realized, eventually did leave pain scars in the end.

I bit my lip and sat with my penis again aimed into the bowl. A hiss of wasted yellow water swooshed into the bowl and it felt relieving and pleasurable. 

I farted a few times, then stood up and left the bathroom.

Good thing my mother isn't around, she probably went back to her room.

I scurried in the kitchen and saw an appetizing bread roll on the kitchen table. I grabbed it, took a bite, chewed it, then returned back to my room.

My mom was there, holding up my suit and brushing a few imperceptible flakes off the material. I grimaced; today was Sunday, church day, which I hardly ever kept. Mom had separated from dad, he now lived in Brooklyn, a subway ride away. But he always taunted me, calling me sissy and such. At least now he would leave me alone.

And though church attendance wasn't assigned in the summertime, it was expected that the students who had remained in the city would make it a habit of attending weekly mass, though, those few who had remained, hardly ever did. 

"Aw, mom," I lied. "There's a game I gotta go to, it's important."

"What game?" she erupted, shaking her head. "It's Sunday. You know you have to go to Mass. School starts in a few weeks, what's Mother Superior going to say about your absence?"

"Hell, mom, I ain't in their school anymore, you know that?" I scratched my head. "Plus, mom, I promised. The guys expect me there..."

She looked at me. "What guys? All summer long you say you have no one to play with and today you say you have to meet some guys." She sternly looked at me. "Who are these guys, I'd like to know...?"

I winced from her outrage. "Petey and Frankie," I blurted, naming two guys at school who hardly ever showed up for Sunday mass, much less even knew I was still alive. "I play shortstop," I continued. "Without me the game will be lost, that's for sure."

My mother looked at me, tossing the suit down. "Go to your stinking game," she said. "See if I care..." And she turned and walked out of my room. I looked after her then smiled, glad that my lie had been so convincing.

But in the kitchen, after I put on my dungarees, my mother shouted, "Wash your face, young man! I don't know what kind of gook have on it, Jesus!"

I froze but went to the sink and splashed my face with water. Last evening, after he had cum on my face two times, Dickie said I look more attractive. "Leave it on," he suggested, "no one will ever know," and proceeded to kiss my face and mouth. 

How many times did he do that, ejaculate on my face? Whatever it was, it was heavenly! 

The man was an awesome load of shooting scum. Each time I shut my eyes and held my face out he sprayed his cooling paste directly from his vibrant shooting cock onto my starved facial pores. 

God, it was heavenly! Like a divine treat that's for sure.

I washed my face and the back of my neck with some regret, then dried myself with a towel.

My mother scolded me from the other room. "Mrs. Towarsky says she will drop by this afternoon, along with her daughter, Shosha. You remember Shosha, a lovely little girl?"

I scowled. "Aw, mom," I said in the doorway. "Today will probably be a double game, you know, one right after the other. I'll be home late."

"So what?" she said. "You used to go to school with Shosha, or have you forgotten? Just because she's in a new school in the Bronx doesn't mean you can't be friends anymore. Mrs. Towarsky is still my cousin, remember that. I'm sure Shosha would love to see you."

I glared at mom and slammed the door behind me. Oh, screw her and screw Shosha most of all! 

Shosha was my age and we had been in the same class for years, living a few doors from each other, so that we walked to school and back almost every day. Just because she moved to the Bronx doesn't mean she's that important, I thought. Anyway, I heard rumors about what she had become. Like a hooker, some guys said...

Aw, the hell with them all!

I walked through the quiet Sunday morning streets to Fifth Street and Avenue B and C, passing sleeping buildings, with hardly a resident stirring. Discarded beer cans lined the street throughout. A few times I passed strewn garbage, as if someone had been looking for lost treasure which couldn't be found. Or maybe it was found the seeker had ceased looking through the other trash cans which lined the streets.

But as I got closer to Dickie's building, I felt my hardon growing stiff and rigid. A few times I'd pass someone, and I was certain they could see the stiffness in my own crotch. That by the time I reached Dickie's building and climbed the vacant stairs to his fourth-floor apartment, I had pulled my hard prick out, as if to show I was ready for anything. I knocked on his door.

Again, I rapped on his door, a little louder and more forcefully. "Dickie, it's me, Timmy!"

I heard footsteps shuffle across the rooms and come to a halt at the front door. "Who is it?" he feebly said.

"Timmy," I answered, surprised at his forgetfulness. "From yesterday, you remember. Can you let me in?"

By then my hardon had stiffened even more as it surged out of my zipper. Dickie opened the door and gaped wide eyed at me standing with my stiff prick surging out of my pants. 

"What the hell?!" he blurted, looking up and down the hall; I was certain I heard movement behind another doorway. Dickie grabbed my arm and pulled me in to his door, slamming it shut behind me.

"Are you crazy?" he hissed, rubbing his shaking head. "Just because I do it to you doesn't mean you can out and show what we were doing." He shook his head again. "My God, think of the trouble!" He collapsed to the couch in the kitchen and looked at me. "And never use my name out of this room," he nervously said. "It's our secret name, you know." He tried to wink but rubbed face and yawned instead. 

I felt very stupid and dumb. But I also began to suspect that Dickie wasn't his real name, still I was curiously amazed by the red frilly negligee Dickie wore. (To me he would always be a dick...) It hung on him from neck to foot without another piece of clothing on him. Under the negligee he was nude, no wonder his hurried stance in the doorway. My penis still stood out.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Thought you would've like to see me..." I clutched my stiff penis and tried reinserting back in my pants. Dickie cleared his throat and stood up.

"Honey," he said, putting an arm about my shoulder. "You've got to be more careful. Many people don't understand what two guys in a room do together." He stood next to me and again pulled out my still-stiff cock.

"Ouch!" I spluttered, pushing him away. "It burns..."

He looked at me curiously. "What burns, how?"

I blushed. "Your teeth," I said, lowering my head. "You bit me, a lot too."

"Oh, poor baby," he said, again putting his arm around me. "Let's go to the bedroom so you can show me."

I shrugged as he swished in his red negligee and drew me to the bed.

"Why do you wear that thing?" I asked, gesturing to the frilly nightdress. "It's for women, you know," and I blushed.

"Hah, and I can't wear it!? he angrily said, pushing himself off the bed. "I have much dainty things than women have." He opened a closet door showing various negligees hanging aligned from hangers. "They're mine," he proudly said. "All mine, plus I have a few boys who love to wear them, too."

Many negligees in red, pink and black hung like sentinels alertly guarding their protectorate. My mouth dropped open with my breathing very shallow. I stood up and went to the to the cabinet. Dickie turned red and coughed.

"Is that something for me or are you just happy to see me?" he said, smirking and nodding towards my erection.

"Huh, what...?"

"Never mind," he said, shutting the closet door. "Old joke." He held me by the hand as he led me back to the bed. 

"What old joke?" I asked.

He sighed and told me about Mae West and her old-time raunchy movies and how she was always flirting with men, but her flirtations were nothing but cunning sexual teasing and baiting. Which of course, the horny men so blindly bit into. 

Strangely with Dickie, I felt very safe as he explained these things about Mae West, and his wearing that frilly negligee made me feel safe in his arms. Very feminine, too, though his hard masculinity could not be disguised. 

"Honey," he said, "you have too many clothes on." And he started removing my T-shirt, to which I just lay back as the clothes were taken from my body. In a matter of seconds, I lay there nude. I thought of my days wearing a cowboy hat in Coney Island. And I wondered if perhaps Dickie wasn't the same man with me in the restroom... The thought made me harder.

Dickie yawned heavily, removing his glasses and shaking his head.

"You came much too early," he yawned again, picking up a wristwatch from the corner bed table. "Oh, my God, it's not even nine yet!"

I frowned, feeling very guilty. "Sorry," I muttered. And almost instantly my penis lost its hardness, quickly getting soft, just a feeble meaningless muscle adhering to my skin. 

I also yawned, making a stretching sound, but he whispered, "Shh, let's just rest and be still." He pulled a bed sheet over us. "You hold my dickie," he whispered, "and I'll hold yours."

Hmm, so that's where got his name from, my dickie... I smiled.

I felt has hand groping my half-hard penis and I wined from his bite marks along my cock, but I too clutched his softening prick. We held each other's penis that a calmness and stillness settled upon us, my penis still hard, as his softened and shrank into limpness. On the street, I heard a police siren loudly blaring then softening into muteness. I settled closer to Dickie....

I jerked my eyes open. I heard laughter. I bolted up, the room was very bright and sunny, with more laughter from the street below. Dickie had rolled over to the other side.

Now when did that happen? I wondered, glancing at the watch on a corner table. 10:45 it read. Wow, so I slept too!

I got out of bed and glanced at Dickie; he lay perfectly still, a soft snore coming from him. I stroked my hard cock and walked through the kitchen, entering the tiny bathroom, with just a toilet bowl and a door that didn't seem to shut. I peed, farted, and left the toilet unflushed; didn't want to wake up Dickie, I smiled, and returned to the bedroom.

Dickie had not moved. I went to his closet and carefully opened the door. The gleaming negligees beamed back at me. I felt myself growing still harder. Daintily, I dared my fingers closer to the negligees. Almost in a hypnotic trance, I touched one. My mouth was open, and I was slowly and nervously breathing in and out. The hypnotic feeling was heavenly!  

I lightly fingered the black negligee, just slightly, feeling its glimmering softness. Then raised my other arm and stroked the other side, letting it shimmer on me, now unconcerned that Dickie might awaken and see. I pushed my face into the fabric. My eyes were shut, my breathing was very deep and heavy, with my stiff dick out before me. 

The negligee fell from the hanger onto my head and around my face. It was as if someone had gripped and caressed me, all my senses taken by another. 

Dickie coughed and I froze, petrified and scared that I had been caught. I turned to see him, the negligee slipping off my face. He lay on his side, his own red negligee opened to one side, showing his huge hard dick.

"Put it on," he whispered. "Put it on, honey, and come back to bed."

With the negligee going around my shoulders I felt myself becoming a new being, a feminine one, softening, abating, yielding to an unexpressed tenderness I never knew I had to offer. 

If clothes make the man or the boy, then this was a new birthing of a woman/girl who was very eager for it to happen.

Like a giggling teenage girl, I wrapped the negligee around me and happily climbed into bed. Dickie was stroking his penis through the negligee but let go and put his arms around me. 

A glimmer of my black and his red negligees melded together as one, that our faces met open-mouthed, kissing, our mouths sucking each other up. 

Dickie broke from me, pushing himself down, and swallowed my little penis. I eyed his massive, huge muscle, now coming closer in my direction.

The previous evening, I saw it too, but kept my mouth clenched as it spat and shot out its fresh, vibrant, male eruption right in my face. 

In my dreamy state I recalled Coney Island and sitting naked with my eyes shut as a man stood above me. And of course, the hurried times I followed my landlord to the basement. Leading me to countless other men who groped me in various restrooms... Did I now miss them?  

Still, I kept my mouth closed as Dickie prodded and probed lips with his organ. Suddenly, a great spasm gripped me. I was cumming! I grimaced as my lips fell open, his penis surged in. I felt my body wasting away, molding into another's, that it seemed to last forever. A great peace and acceptance fell over me, this releasing of my scum into another's mouth, just as his was doing unto mine.   

I felt Dickie's body clench and tighten underneath mine, then he rocked uncontrollably and spewed in my mouth and face. As in Coney Island, that sensation swept through my body. As happened before --with other man spraying my face-- the scent, that beautiful dew-like scent, refreshed my senses and feelings.

Still, my eyes opened in confusion, and they were instantly watery, my throat clenched. I gagged. 

No, it can't be that, I thought, a dick plunged and replunged into my mouth!

I gagged once more, his dick plopped out, and something came up, splattering all over outside my mouth, vomit, saliva and scum. Dickie instantly pushed me off, but I retched again puking on his and my negligees. 

"No!" he shrieked. "Oh, no!"

He succeeded in pushing me off him. I lost my balance, slid off the bed and went crashing off the bed. The black negligee twisting around me, saturated with my vomit. 

I puked again, trying to get up off the floor. But I slipped on the moist once-frilly negligee now clinging around my weak and enraged torso. 

I succeeded in standing up and tore the negligee off me, throwing it down to the floor, and running from the room. 

"What are you doing, be careful, don't rip it!"

I raced to the kitchen, gagging and coughing. I lowered my head into the sink, where I gagged and puked some more. 

Dickie came after me, also disrobed. I dryly gagged once more. 

"If you want to play at sucking cock," he bitterly said. "You'd better get used to the taste of another's scum." 

He sighed, and said sadly, "It happens to everyone, scum and vomit." He put on his glasses. "It's only natural. I sucked my fourth or fifth cock before I held in and swallowed. No vomit after that."

We looked at each other. He was shaking his head. "But you didn't really suck and swallow, well, almost... But it's a start, and you're quickly getting there." We looked at each other. "And you know, honey, the taste of another's scum is delicious, and well worth the waiting for, isn't it?"

Yes, it was a beautiful taste, much like morning dew...

I fell to the couch. "I'm sorry," I said, "I knew you were going to be mad that I did such a thing, puking all over." I dry belched again, gagging once or twice. 

"What puke?" he asked shaking his head. "More like birthing pains, if you ask me. I know exactly what you're going through," he nodded. "And at your age, why I'm very impressed." We looked at each other. "How old are you, anyway?" I told him, he breathed out and smiled, "Well, at least you're legal, honey."

I settled against him, wiping my lips. He held me very gently and tenderly, his arm around me as I cuddled next to him. We held each other for a while, until he nudged me. 

"But the place is starting to smell," he said, pushing me off. "Hey, why don't you take a bath while I clean up, okay?" 

He pulled me to a kitchen bathtub covered in a corner of the room. There was one in my house too, I thought. He lifted the metal cover and ran hot water into the tub. 

"Perfect," he exclaimed. "The hot water is running, and in no time, you'll be rid of that smelly puking stench that's around you."

He held out his arm and I took it, raising one leg and stepping into the tub. I slid down in the water. It was relaxing and peaceful; I had never experienced such a feeling of contentment and acceptance. I bit my lip and marveled at the man for accepting me so readily. He stooped down, and tenderly kissed the top of my head.

"Wash up, and I'll be right back," he said, walking across the small kitchen. "I might even join you in the tub," he shrugged in the doorway, "that is, if I fit!" And he giggled, winked at me, and went to the other room.

I also smiled, feeling very contented, and stuck my head under water. I love that feeling of being surrounded by water. In a bit, I surged back up, gasping for air, reaching for tiny bar of soap and lathering myself as best I could. 

Again, I ducked under water, but surged right back up. Dickie came from the other room with two soiled and wet negligees. He smiled at me and put the negligees in a bag along with some other clothes. 

"Guess I'll take these to the drycleaners, they're open till one or two," he snorted. "As usual I'll say my wife puked all over herself." And he winked at me. "You know what women can be like," he added, shaking his head. "Woman, ech! What good are they, but an utter waste?" He made a face, grimacing.

I stood up from the tub and reached for a soiled towel which Dickie was holding out to me. With my toes I nudged the water plug until it made a phlegmatic snorting gurgle as it finally washed out. 

"Good, my turn now," he said. "I must take a hurried bath before they shut the hot water off." He dipped his arm in the water. "Damn, got to hurry up, it's getting cool already." He removed his glasses and stepped into the bathwater. "You go in the other room, honey. I'll come in and join you in a jiffy. We'll both feel much better when I do." And he winked as I stepped into the other room.

I looked at his watch --almost noontime-- and collapsed on the bed. I looked at the bedsheet under me and was impressed; he had changed it to a blue one that covered the mattress with fresh pillowcases at the head.  

I glanced at the open closet where the negligees hung from wire hangers. There were many others, white ones, a green one, a few more black ones, and a frilly little pink baby-doll. My penis instantly re-stiffened.

I went to the cabinet, took the baby-doll off, and put it on.

Perfect! It settled on my shoulders to just below my hips; my stiff dick a welcome accompaniment to it.

"Hmm, I love you," I said aloud to myself, hugging myself too. "Yes, I do, you pretty miss."

Dickie coughed. I turned red, very embarrassed and looked at him. He stood wiping his head and grinning at me. "I love you, too, honey, very much." He puckered his lips and blew me a kiss. I did the same and returned his kiss.

I daintily walked across the room, my penis before me as the baby-doll swirled around me. I looked at Dickie, expecting him to join me, but he started to dress, putting on his glasses and slipping into trousers.

"I'm going out for a bit," he said. "Have to take the negligees to the dry cleaners. They close early on a Sunday. I think one of two. It's already noon. I'll be back in a jiff." 

He looked at me, bit his lip, then opened another closet door and pulled out some catalogs. 

"Meanwhile, you look though these pages. Pick something you really like. I'll order it for you, my treat. There are some nice ones," he said, flipping the pages, "that's for sure." 

He handed me the catalog of frilly feminine dresses, nighties, puffed up bras and girdles. My penis instantly grew to a hardness and stiffness it hadn't reached before. 

"And remember, no jerking off till I return," he said, pushing his glasses back. "It will be so much better when we jerk-off and cum together. The catalog might even make you a cocksucker and swallower," he winked, "one never knows." I turned red as he blew me a kiss and shut door behind him.

I listened to the locks clicking and turning shut, then his footsteps receding down the hall as he descended the stairs. I was alone in Dickie's apartment. It was strange, I had never been alone in someone's apartment before, and I like the feeling. 

Many times, as I wandered through the endless streets, I'd pass hundreds, no, thousands of apartments, each holding secret lives in a fleeting moment of time. 

Didn't I want to go in one and see how each one was lived? I did, that was my nameless yearning, to see how a live was lived and perhaps share in the life. That's where my loneliness stemmed from, that I could never be a part of someone's life, until now.

I sighed, very content, being in this apartment and sharing the bed Dickie had slept on. I had slept on it, too. I hugged Dickie's pillow and held it atop of me. 

Wish it was Dickie, I thought. My penis was very stiff. I squeezed it a bit but remembered Dickie's admonition: No jerking off! Of course, he was right; it was his apartment, and I was a guest on his bed, hoped I could be more...

I sighed and stood up. Oh, yes, the catalogs! 

I went back to bed, clutching a few catalogs, and sat down cross-legged. 

Wait a minute, girls don't sit like that, I blushed. I'm a sissy and sitting like that is for guys.

I shook my head and put me two legs together to the side, my scrotum and balls glimmering so obscenely, I giggled. 

I flipped through the catalog. Michelle's, Fashions for Ladies and Others 1964 it read. What Others? I wondered. 

A picture of a woman in a pink outfit graced the cover, but there was something hungry about the woman, her mouth slightly agape with her eyes in some unexpected pleasure. Something had stirred her only to what was clearly erotic lust, or so I imagined. Clearly, that's the only thing I was able to discern from the pictures and drawings in the catalog. I turned a few pages...

Bras with push-up cleavages, panties with cut-out fronts, shimmering weaving negligees in various colors and patterns all beamed from the pages. 

It was beautiful!

Cup-less French bras, with padded buttocks in exposed girdles, and a come-hither look, the catalog called it. 

A woman, or someone, could spend hours lusting and dreaming of the images on the catalog pages, which was exactly what I was doing!

I held the catalog to my chest and rolled stop it. If I hadn't agreed to Dickie's No Jerking Off admonition, I'd be drenched in my own scum by now... 

I whimpered and rolled onto my back. Being a boy was so stupid, they'd always call you a sissy, anyway.  

I had to be a girl, no question about that. Well, at least a sissy girl. Limp-wristed and flirty, a totally dumb girl, that's what I would be. A dumb bitch bimbo, a sissy fag, a cocksucking sissy fag!

I froze; the front door lock turned. I heard giggles and the door opened, with someone passing through and shut the door behind them.

"Don't worry," I heard Dickie's voice. "She's just like you, you know. She's sweet, as you are, too." I imagined him blowing a kiss at whoever.... 

Dickie entered the bedroom followed by young boy, perhaps my age or maybe a little younger. I sat up, my legs together with my bullocks still rounded at my legs. I looked nervously at them, biting my lips, as the boy stood blushing as well, and biting his own lips.

We looked at each other, both of us shy, nervous, uncertain of what to do. The boy sulked, then turned and went to a small drawer and removed articles of female clothing.

I glanced at Michelle's catalog; it looked as if it was coming alive. The pictures and drawings in the catalog now seemed to be stirring as they were removed from the drawer. Bras and blouses and even a blond wig came out. My penis was stiff and eager for the clothes to be on me.

Dickie looked at me, once gain pushing up his glasses. "You like?"

I nodded, open-mouthed. "Uh huh," I breathed. "Very much so..."

"By the way, this Shelly," he said. "Shelly, this is Timmy."  

But Shelly had removed his shirt and jeans, as if impatient to be rid of the apparel he had on. As I watched him, I felt an incredible jealousy and resentment at his having so many feminine articles. 

It wasn't fair; in no time he had altered from being a dull boy into an attractive pretty girl. And not a silly teenager as I wanted to be but a young woman with a blond wig atop her head, and a necklace around her neck. Irresistible, and I instantly hated her.

"You like?" repeated Dickie again to no one, breathing heavily and rubbing himself in his pants.

I shrugged. She's okay," I mumbled. "But I can do better..."

"Hah!" Shelly flared, viciously her foot on the floor. "My ass, you can do better!"

Dickie came between Shelly and me. "Girls, girls," he said, shaking his head. "Behave yourselves, be ladies and not uncivil boys with hardly any manners at all." 

He pulled me to stand up, my erection protruding out of the baby-doll, and took Shelly's other arm, drawing us close together. I could see she was gritting her teeth. Dressed as she was, I thought, what else could I call her, certainly not a he?

"C'mon girls, kiss and make up," said Dickie. "We have so many things to discover about each other." He looked from me to Shelly. "Don't we, pretty girls?"

I blinked my eyes as I felt her blouse swaying against my arm and saw her looking at me. She certainly was attractive, that's for sure. 

I shut my eyes, moving a little closer to her. Still, I was surprised when her lips pressed against mine. We kissed open-mouthed and I felt that strange tingling shiver going through me as our heads separated. 

She blushed and smiled at me; I smiled back, feeling embarrassed. Given time, I knew, love would surely grow.

"That's my little angels," smiled Dickie, holding us by the arms again. "That's what I want to see, my two sweet girls falling in love."

Shelly blushed and giggled, as I turned red and also giggled. Dickie pulled us on the bed, but Shelly had already sat down, pulling her skirt down, just as girls always do. 

I sat beside her and watching as Dickie was removing his clothes until he stood nude before us. Shelly and I looked hungrily at his stiffening cock. He lowered himself to the bed and settled himself between us.

We nestled on each side of him as he kissed us in turn, back and forth, first one then the other. Each of our hands groped at his big penis and balls. Its adult hugeness was awesome compared to Shelly's or my childish stiffness. 

We were mere boys --or girls-- faced with a real, massive, overly ripe man, but one who eager and very curious over our carefree naiveté. 

Boys as girls? I certainly had much to learn...

"That's right," said Dickie, nodding his head and looking at me. "You're now one of us, a queer sissy." We kissed and I blushed. "But remember," he continued, "what goes on in this room stays in this room. No idle boastful show-off chattering," he turned to Shelly, "that's what will get you in trouble, eh?" He cleared his throat. "But you have a worthy replacement in Timmy. Are you glad your three months are coming to an end?"

Shelly shrugged. "I suppose..."

What were they talking about? I wondered. What's coming to an end?

I looked at Dickie. "What's going on?" I asked. "Why is he so sad?"

Shelly sat up. "You haven't told him?"

"Told me what?" I blurted, also sitting up. 

Dickie sighed but pushed up, getting out of bed. He took off his glasses off and rubbed his face. "Shelly agreed to stay for three months and learn what she can about being a queer girl, how to suck cock and swallow, how to take it up the ass, and other things. But now in a week her three months will be over, and we agreed another will take her place." He looked at me, "I thought it could be you, care to try it?" 

I was confused. But be a queer in three months? I knew I was already one, but I couldn't leave mom just like that... I shook my head, but saw his wristwatch, 5:15 it read.

I bolted upwards. "My God, it's almost evening. I have to get home."

Dickie shrugged. "Funny, how time hurries by when you're having fun, eh?"

Shelly beside him giggled.

"I have to go," I said. "My mom will be mad I was gone all day." I took off the pink baby-doll I was so fond off and started to put on my jeans and T-shirt.

"What about you," said Dickie to Shelly, "what time are you expected home?"

"Eight or so," he answered. "Today's Sunday and mom wants to get in bed early, you know. Can't stay out later than that, or else she'll be really mad." Shelly looked at me and nodded. "Will she be coming back?"

Dickie studied me as I stood chewing my bottom lip. 

"I don't know, will she?"

I knew that his she, meant me, but would I be coming back? Oh, what the hell, I nodded, why not?

"Oh, goodie," said Shelly, "I like her, she's okay, and not like the other you were teaching." She sneered, "What was her name, Phony, or something like that?"

Dickie shook his head, scowling at us. "Phillipa, her name was Phillipa! How many times must I explain that to you?"

He sighed as Shelly turned to me. "What a laugh she was, and thought she was better than anyone. Well, I didn't like her one bit. Still comes around, claiming she has no money, hah!" She crossed her legs, frantically waving a leg back and forth, not looking at me or Dickie.

He came to me and took my hand; I inevitably glanced down at his cock. It was limp but still hung heavily before him. He walked me to the door, his cock swaying before him. 

"Remember, this is out little secret. No one must know what we do in the room. I did it with Phillipa, with Shelly, and hopefully with you, too."

He winked, tenderly kissed the top of my head, and began to open the door. "See you in a few days, honey."

I stopped, looking at him. "Few days," I muttered, "how come?"

He snorted. "Honey, some of us have work we have to go to."

I sadly nodded my head. "Yeah, I know. Work...my mom goes to work too."

He shrugged and kissed my forehead. "In a few days we'll have more things to talk about." He turned and clicked the locks, opening the door. "Be seeing you, sweetie," he winked and shut the door.

I bit my lip and headed down the stairs, still very confused.

Chapter 10

I was opening the front door when I heard mom racing across the kitchen floor. She flung the door open, and she shrieked, "Where have you been?!" She pulled me inside. "Mrs. Towarsky and I were out looking for you for hours. So where have you been? I was so worried."

"At the ballgame, mom, like I told you." I tried going to my room, but mom stopped me.

"What game? I was in the park two times, and no one knew what I was talking about. Those vicious ugly boys even made comments to Shosha, what they're going to do to her. I was so embarrassed..."

"Shosha was there?" I asked. 

"How could you hang out with those creeps?" 

"What creeps? I was in the East River Park, a real ballpark. Shosha used to hang out at the ball courts in Tompkins Square Park. Not for me, mom." I was on a roll.  "Way downtown, even below the Williamsburg Bridge. There's a ball field down there. There's Spanish guys there, too." I'd better shut up. "We played two games, won 'em both." I proudly boasted, winking at her. "One right after the other."

Since I was safe and sound my mother's anger readily abated. Shosha and Mrs. Towarsky were forgotten.

My mother sighed and continued doing what she was doing. No harm had befallen me, that's all that mattered to her. Plates and pots clattered, as dishes were set upon the table.

"I'm making spaghetti, your favorite," she said, emptying a box of pasta into the boiling water. The spaghetti stood stiffly for a brief moment, then settled into limpness in the quivering, boiling water. Seeming to be the opposite of what humans do, from softness to hardness. I blushed, as I recalled what I had been doing all afternoon

Mom covered the pot and looked at me.

"You're not even tired. Your clothes don't even show any signs of where you have been," she said, accusingly. 

"Had to play outfield," I lied, shaking my head. "Was gonna play shortstop, but they moved me. That's deadville out there, nothing ever happens. No runs came by, well, just a few..."

But my mother wasn't listening anymore, she was glancing at the paper's Sunday comics.

"Uh huh," she said a few times, turning the comics page. "You know, that Shosha is becoming a very nice girl, or should I say, young lady?" 

I looked at her. Why did she call Shosha a young lady when just few minutes age she was a little girl? I'll never understand a woman's logic.

"But it's a pity they had to move to the Bronx..."

"Crime, mom, lots of crime in Manhattan," I said.

Mom ignored me and sighed. "She's probably seeing young men by now, though Mrs. Towarsky denies it. Well, I know what young girls can be like..." and she blushed, turning the comics page.

I studied her, biting her bottom lip as she read her comics. Obviously, she probably thought she had spoken too much. She turned and removed the lid off the boiling spaghetti, inserting and spinning a fork in the gurgling water, she removed the fork and recovered the pot.

"Just a few minutes," she said and went back to looking at the comics. "You know, Shosha had a very nice outfit on," she shook her head, "but I don't understand why they have to make it so short. My God, it was over and above her knees! Me and Mrs. Towarsky certainly had words about that, but you know what young girls can be like." 

I looked at her and dreamily thought of Shosha's clothes. How come girls get to wear such pretty ones while guys are left with such drab lifeless material?

"What color was it?" I asked. 

"What do you mean, what color?" she said, shaking her head draining the spaghetti water. "You're now interested in her colors?"

"I don't care what she wears; what's it to me? Shosha's a slut anyway."

"What!? Mind your tongue, I won't have you talking like that." She set the spaghetti onto some plates and poured tomato sauce over each plate. "Pink," she mumbled as if to herself, and inserted a fork in her spaghetti and began to eat. 

I too began to eat, all the while thinking pink...I love pink! I love all female colors and clothes, whether they be pink or purple, black or red, or whatever, as long as I can put them on and smother myself in the beautiful, soft, feminine fabric.

"But you know," mom continued, twirling the spaghetti with her fork. "Mrs. Towarsky agrees that the dress was much too short. When she sat down you could see the tops her nylons peeking out from her dress." She shook her head, as she twirled her food. "Truly un-presentable; perhaps it was a good thing you weren't there to see how little she had on." And she turned very red. After a few moments she said, to change the subject, "This reminds of Mrs. Chorney and how her son, you know, the Chorney son...?"

But I stood up, finished with her food and not listening to her gossip anymore, and carried my plate to the sink and run some water atop it.

"Leave it alone," she guiltily said. "I'll do the dishes."

"I don't know no Chorney son," I said, going to my room and slamming the door shut. Chorney was an asshole; I knew him from school. He had a part-time messenger job and bragged he was going to the top. I never got along with him, hell, I never got along with anyone in school. Aw, the hell with Chorney or any other creep in school.

I lay on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. God, did I miss Dickie and Shelly! Even though I just met them.

I looked at the clock ticking on a cabinet. 6:25 it read. I frowned; Shelly would have a little more time with Dickie than I did.

Not fair, not fair at all, I should've stayed there! But, damn, moving in with him? No way would mom agree to that. 

The clock showed 6:30. I stood up and went to the kitchen. 

The plates were still undone, and mom was sitting at the table, smoking a cigarette and reading the Sunday paper.

"Gonna go out," I said to mom, winking at her. "Gonna find me Shosha and check out her short skirt."

"What?!" she flared, enraged. "I beg your pardon..."

I chuckled. "Just kidding, mom, just kidding. Gonna go out a bit, it's still early."

"You better be kidding," she firmly said. "Go on, get out of here. But be back when in darkens, you hear me?"

I slammed the door shut, thinking, Shosha, what a slut, and raced down the stairs.

Chapter 11 

I was glad to be away from mom with her dumb gossip about Shosha and her silly acquaintances. But there were many females in the neighborhood, especially during the day --mom herself worked nights as a cleaning lady, so her days were her own. It was almost impossible to see a man on the streets at that time of day, though there were a few, women seemed to have overtaken the area, hurrying and doing the shopping and cooking till the man came home from work. 

I walked those same streets, passing by Tompkins Square Park where I first met Dickie, just one or two days ago. Though I'm certain I had seen him before.

Still, why was I so determined and resolute to see him now, though we parted just a few hours ago. I saw his building on Fifth Street and breathed out, slowing my pace. 

Kids outside were playing tag and running back and forth; a girl bounced a ball up and down. 

I sat down on a stoop and looked around, observing. Stoops lined the street, some empty, some holding lazy carefree sitters. There'd be no attention if I just sat there, which was the usual mode of relaxation on the Lower East Side.

Then I winced, crouching down on the stoop. A few doors down, Shelly came out of Dickie's building and quickly walked towards Avenue C, where he turned the corner and disappeared from view. 

I grinned. Just two hours ago he was dressed and acted as a girl yet now a boring boy strode past. I chuckled and breathed out.

Now Dickie was up there all alone, I thought, and waiting just for me!

Again, I grinned wickedly, and then stood up knowing I would traipse into his apartment, when suddenly Dickey came out.

I bolted back down. How can I disappear or what? I nervously turned even more to the side. Dickie walked firmly and quickly along the street, passing me and not even seeing I was crouched there.

Whew, that was a close one! 

I got up and carefully followed him, edging close to the buildings. He turned onto Avenue B. I raced to the corner and saw he was walking to Tompkins Square. Yet he seemed to have stopped being in such a rush, entering the park slowly, as if the park would supply him with what was needed.

He sat down, a few seats from a young man. He said something to the man, who stood up, glared at Dickie then walked away. Dickie shrugged, but also stood up and began walking in the direction of the restroom.

Damn, I realized, he was trying to entice someone to come with him. After all this time with me and Shelly, he still wasn't satisfied and wanted more. I blushed.

Isn't that why I had come out again, wanting more? I shook my head. We are all perverts, aren't we?

But I was on the move again, following his figure as he now and then faded in the turning walkways of the park. 

Saw him stop, as I stopped too. He paused by a seated man who was reading a book. The man looked up; Dickie quickly hurried away. The man shook his head and resumed his reading. Obviously, something negative had passed between these two at one time. It was certain that the reading man was not a sissy as Dicked assumed he was.

Once again, I followed him as he walked along the path on Ninth Street, nearing the park candy shop and restrooms on each side. 

He paused, looking around, then turned and entered the male restroom. I blushed; that was exactly where I had first exchanged glances with him some days ago. Was he now ready to exchange looks and kisses with another? But more than that, was his cum going to sprinkle another's face and chest, too?

I felt jealous; I should go home, he had Shelly, he didn't want me. 

So, Shelly's three months were almost over, big deal? Dickie'll get another boy/girl easily enough.

Self-defeating thoughts surged into my head. It would be easy to disappear on the Lower East Side; millions have done that already.

I pushed myself off the fence, and though I didn't want to, I headed to the restrooms. No matter what my dire thoughts were, here was something which had saturated my body and soul with pleasure and satisfaction. Dickie was teaching me to suck, if I could, and fuck, which I craved to do anyway.

I shook my head, and boldly entered the dark restroom.

The lightening was dim and meager, and it seemed no one was in the restroom. Four or five urinals braced one wall as doorless toilets stood on the other side. 

Somehow, I had missed him. My blind hunger and longing, trailing the twists and turns of the park, led to a dead end. I sighed and stood before a urinal, stroking my dick. I heard a shuffle; I froze. 

Of course, in the stalls!

I turned and saw Dickie peering out of a stall, looking at me with some surprise. I held my stiff dick out of my pants as he gestured to me. 

I looked at the front door and hurried to Dickie, still holding my penis out to him.

"What are you doing here," he hissed, licking his wet lips, "I thought you went home?"

He maneuvered me into his stall, as I shrugged, "It was still too early, so I came back out."

He smiled and nudged to sit on the toilet bowl. I gaped at his big, hard and meaty erection sticking out before him. I shut my eyes and longed for the warm but refreshing facial I expected, taking me back once again to those Coney Island days.

Dickie's penis jabbed the side of my face, once, twice, trying to pierce my shut lips...

"All out!" a gruff voice shouted. "Closing time, eight o'clock!" and clattered a bunch of keys on the door. 

I opened my eyes as Dickie pulled his cock away from my face and said, "Shit!" He zippered up and was quickly walking away. "Hold your horses, I was just leaving." 

"C'mon, c'mon," I heard the gruff man say. "It's eight o'clock, closing time." He gripped the door, slamming it shut, and inserted a key to lock to.

I bolted out, screaming, "Hey, I'm still in here! Hey, let me out!"

I heard the clatter of keys once again turning and the door was sprung open. 

"What's wrong with you, kid?" the park man angrily said, shaking his head and letting me out. "You coulda been locked in overnight. In a second, I'd be gone." He glared at me and looked quizzically at Dickie, still standing nearby biting his lips. "Kids," he mumbled as if to himself, "Homo kids, a real pain in the ass, if you ask me!"

I turned away from Dickie and angrily walked away. I fumed. He left me in the stinking bathroom and didn't say a word, what a bastard! And after I was expecting his dick facials all along, what a creep!

But on the path, he was after me. "Timmy, wait up, don't be like that..."

I turned to him. "Like what?" I hissed through my tightly closed teeth. "You left me in the bathroom. And the guy came to lock up." I walked on, complaining all the while, as he silently followed. At the edge of the park, I stopped. "Leave me alone," I said, seeing sadness and regret in his eyes.

I walked out of the park. I continued a block or so, then turned to look behind me. He was nowhere in sight, and I couldn't make out the park anymore. I cursed, lost in thought, and staggered home. 

Chapter 12

The night was endless. I thought I was sleeping but I bolted up after lying down, as if someone had touched me.

It was only ten pm. I cursed and rolled on my side, my tongue and mouth filled with the imagined sensation of a penis squirming in and out. 

But I wasn't a cocksucker, only been near a few, I was a facialist, having creamy, dewy vibrant cum on my face. 

Timmy the facialist, I grinned at the made-up name.

I don't think I slept much. I had cum two or three times but each time the shooting scum left me as aroused as I was before; my dick remained hard and stiff. 

I began to think of Shelly. Was his penis stiff but unsatisfied or was he now sleeping in proverbial bliss?

Much like Shelly, I, too, was small-framed, feminine rather than masculine, but unknowing that I was such, until Shelly brought to my awareness and attention.

I love boychicks, like you, he had giggled.

I frowned, I'm not a boy's chick, whatever that means, but turned red when I recalled my old landlord.

Boychick, Shelly still giggled, you're my little boychick.

Again, in the deepest night, I felt my jealousy rising again. I frantically beat my cock once more, the ejaculation somewhat lessened but still thick.

Dickie, someone to hold and get facials from...Dickie, who hinted that he might even love me...Dickie, who left me behind in a dark restroom...Aw, hell!

I awoke a few hours later. Mom was ready to do her shopping for the day. She smiled as I sleepily staggered into the bathroom.

"Good," I heard behind me, "you're awake."

I frowned and shut the bathroom door. I peed, standing up and stared at my raw penis. Scratches and bite marks were there from yesterday as if accepting the damage that had been done. I peed, sighed, and once again held my stiff cock in my hand. 

"Come out," my mother called. "I have to leave."

I flushed, adjusted my hardon in my drawers and stepped into the kitchen. Mom was looking at me.

"You alright?" she said, squinting her eyes, "You look very beat..."

I winced, rubbing my face, "Just tired from the game, you know."

She looked around, picked up her sweater and clutched her purse. "There's two sandwiches in the icebox, plus there's cookies and stuff. See you later." 

And she lowered her face, I gave her a light peck on her cheek; she went out and closed the door behind her. 

I glanced in the icebox, took out a bottle of milk. went to the table where a cereal box had been set aside for me. I ate contently and flipped through the old Sunday newspaper mom had been reading. Page after page of news stories, business reports, entertainment, and sporting games, all rather boring.

I placed my empty bowl in the sink and dropped to the couch. I picked up the paper to a section I had missed about girls' clothing now on sale. All sorts of pretty dresses and leisure wear, some for the very young while others were for teen girls. 

I took the Leisure section of the paper and went back to my bed, rubbing my cock and dreaming of Shelly and Dickie. So Shelly was to leave, and I had just arrived...

I shook my head and once again stared at the paper: a pretty girl was whispering to another girl as a boy stood not too far away. It was clear what was going on here. The entire photographic spread was advertising clothes that kids would need for the upcoming school year. 

But as I looked at the whispering girl, she seemed to take on Shelly's teasing, shy look. And I imagined the girl in the photo was indeed Shelly, from her pretty red and white stripped skirt to her dainty short-sleeved white blouse.

In my sex-stirred and horny imagination I was certain the girl before was Shelly. I longed for Shelly.

 I licked the paper, rubbing my dick a few times, then sat up. Where was Shelly now?

I carried the paper back into the kitchen and set it in a corner where it would be readied for the trash collection, then wandered through the house.

Pretty Shelly wouldn't be at home with her mother, or would she? Of course not, so where would she be? Perhaps she had friends she could snuggle up with or was she stuck in her awkward aloneness until she was with Dickie again? But her three months were almost over, so where would she go until that time? Where would I go, if I was her?

I bit my lip, looking around the small apartment.

To the park, of course, Tompkins Square Park! 

I smiled and quickly dressed, grabbing my jacker as I went out to the cloudy street.

Chapter 13

I walked into the park, past the old Ukrainian men on Seventh Street sitting and chattering like old women. 

Made my way to the Temprance Fountian near Ninth Street, that strange fountain covered with a concrete canopy and surrounded with four columns and. Faith, Hope, Charity, and Temperance were carved on each side as you walked around it. 

But it was never filled with health water, just the remains of discarded soda cans, beer cans, cigarettes, cigar stubs, and a few vague rubbers that had lain there for many days if not weeks. 

From the Fountain I could see the small, single-storied park offices on Ninth Street, with the candy shop in the center and restrooms on each side, Men's on one, Women's at the other.

Had Shelly ever been in the Women's Room? I shook my head, dismissing the foolish thought. 

At the far end of the park on Tenth Street and Avenue B were various basketball courts, a place that Shosha used to come to. 

A few men came in and out of the restroom, some looking nonchalant while a few appeared winded and beaten; I could just imagine what they were doing in the stalls.

I blushed angrily recalling the previous evening and almost getting locked in. I grimaced and walked across the sporting field but that did no good.

There were kids and teens playing, running, catching balls, throwing them and running around again.

But nowhere did I see Shelly, or someone of her shape or size. Every time I imagined it was her, on coming closer I grew disappointed when I realized it wasn't. I walked on...

Must have walked three or four times along the paths of the park, from Seventh Street to Tenth Street, from Avenues A and B until I knew she was nowhere around.   

What an idiot! I thought. She's probably sitting in a comfortable fan-blown apartment while I'm pacing back and forth in the uncomfortable heat, just sweating my ass off!

I gritted my teeth. The day had darkened, with the winds picking up; raindrops were starting to fall. People were getting up from their benches and beginning to walk quickly out of the park. 

I was near Tenth Street as the first heavy raindrops fell. I skirted up a pathway and made it out of the park. Raindrops increased as I darted across Tenth Street to the doorway of the Tompkins Square Public Library.

Behind me, thunder exploded and went crashing all around through the streets. Boy, I sure was lucky to have been so near to the library.

I looked at the people who had run for cover standing in the doorway; they stood huddled but continued their gossiping, laughing, and trying to protect themselves from the rain. I turned from them and climbed the three or four steps, entering the library.

Amazing, how peaceful and almost sleepy-like the place was...

Here was the abode of study, reading, and pursuing knowledge, but not with the wastefulness of the street outside.

Hush, silence! Admonished a librarian's voice deep in our subconscious that we recalled from our childhood days and which we meekly obeyed shutting ourselves up in the silent bookshelves around us. 

I lowered my head and crept to the stacks, passing a few figures hunched and reading books at the tables. 

New Books read a notice on a slim bookcase. A row of books, various new titles of the time stood before me. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Nightmare in Pink, Dame's Delight, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, and on and on. 

I thought of picking up a book but instead I walked around the stacks. There's gotta be something here to read, a mystery or a thriller? 

Near a corner of the library, far from the peopled front, sat a figure with his head down and reading a book. Crouched over as he was, I couldn't make out his face, but there was something familiar about the way he sat, one foot atop the other, and that one tilted upwards, holding the two together.

My penis hardened; the way he sat was very feminine. He looked up. My God, it's Shelly!

I reddened, as he did, too. I shuffled to him. He nervously looked down, away from my face, then at me, and nervously whispered, "What are you doing here?"

I looked to the front, past a few rows of books. "Looking for you," I answered, trying to look him in the eye.

"Oh, c'mon, stop kidding."

I shook my head. "No fooling. I've been in the park looking for you, walking around the paths. I couldn't find you anywhere."

He looked at the librarian, sitting at the front desk, and touched my hand, "I was sitting here, reading."

We looked at each other, holding hands. His hand was warm and comforting; I was glad to be holding it. We had just met yesterday but it seemed as if we knew each other for ages. I suppose when you know person's secret sexual tastes, that's all that matters. 

"What are you reading?" I whispered. We both looked in the direction in the direction of the librarian.

"A silly new book," he said, turning the book over so its spine could be seen. Sex and the Single Girl, Brown. He sighed, and said, "Meant for silly girls like me..."

"Must be exciting," I said, squeezing his hand.

"Girly stuff," he shrugged, shaking his head.

"So, what, you like it, don't you?" We looked at each other. I whispered, "We both like girly stuff, you and I. No..."

My penis was incredibly hard, as I'm sure his was too.

"That's why I read so much of their nonsense. I know girls like it, so I like it, too." He shrugged. "So where does that leave me? He looked at me and answered his own question. "In the library, reading their silly books, that's where..."

I smiled. "It's good place to come to," I looked towards the windows, "to get out of the rain."

"Oh, it's raining," he asked, also looking at the windows. "I wouldn't know," he shrugged, "I been here all morning." And he let go of my hand, stretched, yawned and giggled. "I'm just a silly girl," he whispered, looking at me, his eyes wide, desperate. "Too bad we can't go the Freddie's apartment," he added, rubbing his crotch.

"Freddie?" I looked at him, "he told me his name his name was Dickie." We were close to each other, his hand tapping mine, our fingers encircling each other. "He probably lied to you, too. Anyway, who knows what his real name is? I call him Big Dick after what he did to me..."

He threw off my hand, shut the book he was still holding and stared at me. "What?"

I tried to explain what occurred the previous evening but after some moments he shook his head.

"That's not true," he angrily said, "Freddie doesn't pick other sissy's; says they're crude and ugly. He's selective. You're confused over what happed in the park bathroom." And he angrily shook his head. "I know he wouldn't do that; he stays with us...girls," and he blushed. He stared at me a moment and narrowed his eyes. "You're stupid, and ugly, too. Now, get out of my way!"

He pushed me aside and walked away. "Shelly, wait..." I called after him, but he stormed to the front desk where he tossed his book onto it, and out of the library. The librarian looked at him rushing past, then at me standing in the stacks. She picked up his book, read the spine and looking quizzically from the book to me.

I knew Shelly couldn't wait to see Dickie, or Freddie, or whatever his name was. Aw, the hell with them both, I cursed, looked at the librarian and went outside into the wet but quicky drying streets. A glimmer of sunlight was already coming out.

Still, throughout my conversation with Shelly, my prick was explosively stiff. I hurried home where I knew I could jerk-off in peace. 

Chapter 14

On First Avenue, a few blocks from my house, I saw my mother's friend, Mrs. Stetz, or Pani Stetz in Polish, the lady who once admitted some boys would look better dressed as girls.

She was carrying two overloaded grocery bags and looking winded and drained from the chore. 

A few times, over the years, I had seen her stopping my mom, but always gushing and gossiping as my mother stood impatiently waiting to get away from her. 

Always nosy and flirtatious Pani Stetz had it in for every man she met; she had been married three or four times --mom didn't really know-- but still had her stable of men just waiting to get in her front door.

"Stay away from bitch!" my father had one day said as we passed her on First Avenue. "She has some nerve calling herself a Pani, hah!"  

But Pani Stetz saw me and immediately smiled in my direction. "Yoohoo, young man," she gushed. "I know your mother and father," and she blushed, "you remember me? Can you help me, won't you, sweetie?"

And one bag almost tumbled out of her arms, but she took a step, held the bag upwards and used her upper leg to support it. I hurried to her, and we saved the collapsing parcel.

Inadvertently, my hand brushed against her breast, and she seemed to swoon, her eyes slightly shutting as she bit her lower lip. But she opened her eyes, looking gratefully at me as I took the bag from her, while she clutched the other bag to her chest. 

"Oh, you saved me, what can I do to thank you?" she trilled, as she cunningly winked one eye. "But we'll think of something, won't we, sweetie?"

We stood, adjusting the bags. "Walk me to my house," she quietly said, as she steadied herself from the bag, and once again winked.

I frowned. "Can't," I said, shaking my head. Have to get home, mom will be waiting." But I felt bad about mom's fictional waiting for me; hell, I knew no one was waiting.

"Oh, c'mon, it's just a few blocks from here, on Eleventh, not far at all, and you'll be helping me a lot." And again, she winked. "Plus, I'll make it worth your while, I wouldn't ask you for nothing, now, would I?"

I shrugged and carried her bag up the street. Her comment of making it worth my while had caught my attention; obviously she was going the pay me. But with what, one or two dimes, maybe even a quarter? That would be so neat!

We walked up First Avenue and turned on Eleventh Street, coming to a small apartment complex of two or three similar looking buildings, close to Second Avenue, which she had recently moved into.

"Okay," I said, as she pushed the door open, expecting her to take her bag. We looked at each other.

"But you must help me up, sweetie," she said, shaking her head. "Just two flights up," and she went ahead of me.

I winced but began following her up the stairs, looking at her swaying flowered skirt before me. Amazing how many different patterned fabrics women put on; a cornucopia of colors, all so beautiful, all so swishing and alluring.

We quickly reached the second floor, and she led me to her door, fumbling with the lock.

"This never works since I moved in," she said, shaking her head and setting her bag down. "I told the super many times that it's jammed or something, and he told me to jiggle it a few times. Jiggle, jiggle. Go jiggle yourself! I told him." And shaking her head she looked at me as the lock clicked. "Finally," she exclaimed, and kicked the door fully open with her foot, entering with me right behind her.

We set the bags on the table as she wiped her forehead.

"Matke Boze (Mother of God) is it hot, whew!" she clutched her blouse at her chest, fluffing it out for air. She clicked a fan on; it rotated on its base and stirred the air somewhat. "Have to get out of this," she said, quickly unbuttoning the front of her blouse and swinging it back on her shoulders, revealing a very fulsome bosom, a yellow bra hung about her chest.

I watched mesmerized; the moist, wet stickiness of her skin was enchanting. But being in her apartment was very weird. I had felt a similar strangeness in Dickie's apartment; that I'm in a place where I don't belong.  Yet the aura here was charming and enticing, each object seeming to shyly say, But we haven't been introduced yet....and flitting their eyes downwards. It was tease, a flagrant, but blatant enticement. And I liked it!

Still, I was very confused. After having been with cunning Dickie and giggly Shelly, I still desperately hungered for each. But today, faced with being with Pani Stetz, I was drawn to her femininity, which she had exposed to me by taking off sweaty blouse. Man or woman? I no longer cared what I was but still I hated that in a few moments I would be forced to leave.

"Yeah, it sure is hot," I said. "Can I have some water?"

"Why, yes, certainly," she answered, turning to the sink. "Silly me..."

I turned red. That's exactly what Shelly had said in the library, silly me...

The water gurgled and spat out, as if taking its time before it gushed out. "Damn, nothing seems to work anymore," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah," I nodded, "Just like the jiggling lock." 

She grinned, "Exactly, just as the jiggling lock." 

We both grinned and I drank the glass of tepid water she gave me but set it down on the kitchen table. Too warm, I thought, but she had turned and opened her purse.

"Aw, damn, I got no change," she said. "Just a few meager coins..." and she held out her hand with a few pennies, a nickel and dime. "I promised you more, didn't I?"

I frowned. "Yeah, well..."

"Oh, wait a minute. I hear someone's coming up the stairs," she said, and hurried to the doorway, where a woman was about to climb the upper stairs. "Lucia, do you have any change for my delivery boy? I'm all out. Pay you back later."

The woman glanced at me, frowned, but stepped aside and opened her own bag, pulling out a change purse. "How about two quarters? Sorry, but that's all I have."

"Perfect!" Pani Stetz exclaimed, beaming and smiling at me.

"Come here and say hello to Mrs. Stetz," the lady in the hallway said to a figure standing nearby. "I tell you, boys can be so impolite, nowadays."

I heard a footstep and looked up. My God, it was Shelly!

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.

Chapter 17

At nine-thirty the next morning --I still had not mentioned to mom that I had seen Pani Stetz-- I sauntered along Second Avenue to Eleventh Street, where I could turn off to Pani Stetz's building. 

I was happy as if I knew something no one else did, and I wanted to share it another, namely with Shelly

I thought of him many times as I sat and listened to the radio --we still didn't have a television in those days and most of our news and entertainment came from the radio. Mom liked the romances, I tended more to mysteries.

But now with Shelly in my thoughts I found myself thinking of him, more and more.

What was Shelly doing? I knew Dickey was at work or maybe even in the restrooms, but where was Shelly at that moment? Playing with his girlie toys --if he had any, which I'm sure he did-- or playing with his little dickie?

I blushed and grinned.

Hey, Big Dick and Little Dickie, I thought to myself, that's what I'll call them, my Two Dickie's. I giggled, red-faced and entered Pani Stetz's apartment building.

On the stairs I stopped to listen, hardly any noise. Probably all at work, I thought, must be deadly still when school starts up again.

At Pani Stetz's landing I peered up at Shelly's floor, he was up there somewhere I knew. But I smirked and rubbed my slightly hard crotch, bracing myself, I knocked at her door.

Almost instantly I heard call, "Just a minute, be right there..."

With Shelly upstairs and Pani Stetz right here, I had it made! 

The front door opened and Pani Stetz stood before me.

"Come in, come in," she cheerily said. "Don't mind me, I just got up," and she made a pretend-yawn to made it appear more natural. Still, I had to question what the makeup on her face, or the eyeshadow was all about, I knew those take time. I meekly smiled and entered her apartment.

"Did you have your coffee?" she asked, holding a cup and taking a sip. "I always need mine first thing in the morning. I'll get you some," and she reached in a closet for a cup.

"No, no, thanks," I shook my head. "I'm okay."

She shrugged and went back to sipping her own coffee. She was wearing a short-sleeved pink blouse that was unbuttoned at the front, she put her cup down and seemed to sway around the room in her white pants.

Pants on a woman in the early 1960s were still risqué, a bit bold, but she wore them naturally as if trousers were a normal thing on a woman. 

But under her pants, as if molded onto her skin, she had on nylons and a garter belt, it appeared, which was clearly visible under her sexy clothes. 

My mouth dropped as I stared at it; she also looked down, blushed, and smiled at me.

"I have your...wench," she muttered, pointing to the kitchen table. "Or whatever you call it. This big thing..."

I wiped my brow. "Yeah, wrench," I stressed, turning to the kitchen table. It lay there, four or five inches long, as if ready and waiting to be picked up; I wondered where she had got it. I tried picking it up but dropped it back down.

"Wow, it's heavy," I said, amazed by its two, three-pound weight. She nodded.

"That's the same thing Stahsh said," she stressed, and set her cup down in the sink. "Heavy and big --he brought it over."

"Stahsh," I looked at her. "Who's Stahsh?"

I hated Polish names; they sound so uppity and superior especially when spoken by a Polish person, which Pani Stetz certainly was.

"My beau," she said, blushing, then by way of explanation. "My boyfriend, the man of the house, so he calls himself; that is if he moves in, which I don't think he will. But we'll see..."

I stood listening to her and frowning. Of course, she would have a boyfriend, I had hardly ever seen a woman without a man or boyfriend attached. But what about Dickie, he doesn't have a girlfriend, or does he, maybe it's Shelly, now being replaced by me?

I shook my head as if awakening.

"Guess, I'll get started..." though I really didn't know what to do.

"Listen, what do you think of these pants?" she asked, changing the subject and holding out her arms. "Can you see anything in them, I mean really, see?" And she slowly twirled around and looked back at me. "Tell me the truth..."

I stared open-mouthed. Her pants were white, but molded underneath were the knobs of a fabric which were nylons and a garter belt, protruding in her tight material. 

"Yeah," I breathed, sweaty faced. "I can your...bumps, you know..."

"Huh, what bumps?" she asked, looking down at her legs. "You mean these girly things?" and she turned red.

The molding of her garter and nylons was certainly visible; it was clear what she had on underneath. I gripped the heavy wrench and leaned back on the sink, my own large bump pushing in my pants. 

She looked down then cleared her throat.

"Well, I think I'd better change, though I don't know why," she said, shaking her head. "Anyway, Stahsh likes my clothes but when he comes by always tries to get them off." And she girlishly giggled but looked at me. "You get started, okay?" And she left the room.

I looked after her, still clutching the wrench. What a tease, she is playing me, that's for sure. I breathed out and rubbed my crotch. God did that feel good! When all I wanted was to lower my pants and give myself a nice stiff jerking-off, whump, whump, whump...

I shook my head and looked back at the sink. It was one of those new style sinks, unlike the old-fashioned kind I have at home, with those old pronged twistable taps which always dripped water anyway. But these now ones, in the fashionable apartments, shouldn't be dripping water, or should they?

I studied the strange faucet stinking up and out. Much like a stiff dick, I smirked then frowned, thinking of Dickie and how his dick shot into my face. 

I shook my head and slightly gagged; the memory of someone's stiff dick was at times a repellent one. Repellent and abusive, while at other times, charming and enticing, which I seemed to like. Sometimes I craved and wanted it, while at others I didn't. Either way, my feelings were confused. 

I dropped the wrench, making a horrible thudding noise that brought Pani Stetz rushing back into the room.

"My God, what was that?"

She had removed her pants and one nylon, and now stood before me with one nylon still weaving down her other leg. Pink panties were on her.

"Nothing," I mumbled, "dropped the wrench."

I bent down to pick it up when I saw her legs stepping towards me. I gazed at her bare leg, and I no longer cared. On my knees I reached up and clasped her legs, clutching the bare one and the nyloned leg, too. My eyes were closed but I was aware of lowering my zipper, clutching and stroking my penis and in an instant, barely three or four strokes, I felt the jism rushing upwards in my dick and exploding on her one nylon clad leg. God, what bliss!

But I dared to open my eyes, terrified over what had just occurred, but I was very afraid and embarrassed. Dollops of my scum glistened on her nylon clad leg. 

God was I afraid, can she get pregnant in doing what we just did? Boy am I in deep trouble?!

But Pani Stetz stood there smirking down at me and shaking her head. She pulled herself away and handed me a towel.

"Wipe yourself..." she suggested. "Boy, are you fast!" and she shook her head.

I got up and wiped my wet limp penis. "Put it away," she said and stared at it. I could make out my scum easing down her bare leg to her foot.

"I'm very sorry," I said, zippering up, "Very sorry..." But what if she tells my mother...

She looked at me. "You have to use the bathroom?" she asked, now unhooking the garter that held her now-soiled nylon hose. 

"No," I answered. 

"You're sure, maybe you have to pee?"

I again shook my head. "No, I'm fine."

"Have it your way," she shrugged, studied me for a few moments, then blew me a kiss and walked out of the room.

Her fake blown kiss, which I'm sure it was, had me more confused than I already was.

Is she in love with me or what? Can it be possible I got her pregnant and now she expects to get married? Man, woman relations are damned weird. God, what if she breaks the news to my mother? I can't be the father, I'm only a kid, seventeen years old... Aw, Jesus, what a mess...

I again picked up the wrench; I had no idea what to do with it. I'm not a plumber! 

I looked at the doorway where Pani Stetz had disappeared into and set the wrench down. I shook my head and walked slowly to the front door, opened it and slunk out of the apartment.

Chapter 18

I froze. 

In the doorway to the building stood Shelly, biting his nails.

I opened the front door and nervously looked at him. Like me, he also was shy, quiet and worried about something. 

"Hah, the delivery boy," he snidely blurted, "probably delivering stuff, like all delivery boys. Hah, gimme a break!" And he went back to chewing his nails.

I shrugged. "Just fixing her pipes," I boasted.

"Oh, yeah, how much did she pay you?"

I looked at him. "None of your business," I answered, glaring at him.

We were silent, just looking at each other. I shook my head.

"Why do you do that," I asked, "why do you bite your nails so much?"

He pulled his hand from his mouth.

"None of your damned business," he said, folding his arms.

We looked at each other, actually, glared at the other.

"Did you know," I said, "that Dickie sucks other guys in the bathroom in the park, maybe even little boys?"

Shely shrugged, "His names Freddie, I have no idea who Dickey is, but aren't you a little boy, too?" He spat out the little bit of nail he chewed but said, "Anyway, that's how we first met, in the bathroom. Where did you meet him?"

I blushed. "Also, in the restroom, but he followed me in the park. We said a few words, then we went to his place." 

He stared at me; his eyes avid, hungry; I saw that calmness had returned.

"But you know," I continued, "he doesn't like you anymore. He said so. Plus, your time with him is almost up."

He fumed. "I don't care. I'm going to tell him you were in Mrs. Stetz's apartment," he said, crossing his arms. "Doesn't like his boys being with women, says they pollute us."

"Oh, big deal, tell him I got her pregnant, too." I grinned at him.

"Yeah, sure, sure," but he looked at me, incredulously, then said, "How did you do that?"

I shrugged. "Shot my spunk on her legs." I felt my cock stiffening. "It dribbled down to her foot." We were so close I could almost touch his arm, when he burst out laughing.

"That's stupid. You can't get a woman pregnant that way, not on her legs." He shook his head. "You're making it up, you're a filthy liar, too."

"Oh, yeah, why don't you ask her?"

He glared at me. "I will, but I'm not a lying jerk, like you are. You don't know anything about men or women. You don't even know how a woman gets pregnant, and it isn't by shooting spunk on her legs. That's ridiculous." He looked at me, shaking his head in scorn and ridicule. "A real klutz, that's what you are."

I stood there, red-faced and feeling rather silly yet also at the same time happy and relieved. So Pani Stetz wasn't pregnant as I imagined she was. Boy, that puts a different light on things, doesn't it? When I heard loud woman's steps descending the stairs --no mistaking whose they might be-- I wanted to run...but it was Shelly's mother. 

"Are you ready?" complained Shelly, taking a step from the doorway.

"Why, hello, it's the young...delivery boy, isn't it?" said his mother. But there was a contemptuous sneer in her voice. "Going to Mrs. Stetz apartment, I take it?"

Shelly bitterly protested. "Mother, can we go?"

She made a face.

"Shelly, stop being such a baby," she said, looking at me and adjusting her gloves. She went up to Shelly and tried taking his hand, but he angrily put them both in his pockets, storming away from her.

I smiled after them and shook my own head. 

So, she wasn't pregnant as I thought she was. Shelly was right, what a damned klutz!

I reopened the front door and ascended the stairs once again.

Why women take hours in getting ready, just look at Shelly with his mother; he was downstairs impatiently waiting for her, while she still was upstairs doing who the hell knows what...

I came to Pani Stetz's floor and slunk to her doorway. I'll just open her door and get back to work. She'll never know a thing... I grinned and turned the doorknob. The door was bolted shut. Damn, she closed it... She probably had come back, saw that I was gone and angrily locked the front door.

Damn, I'm a goner...

I slunk back downstairs.

Chapter 19

I walked around the city and in a city like New York, it was incredible how many places could walk in to.  The Lower East Side, Little Italy, or Chinatown, but I always stuck to the downtown area where the tenements surrounded you, street after street after street... Sleepy, tired and overworked was our neighborhood, rather than the gleaming, vibrant ferocity of faraway Uptown or the money-hungry mess that is the Downtown Wall Street area.   

It was about two o'clock and I was back in Tompkins Square Park, walking along the lazy pathways. The park was four blocks long, from Seventh to Tenth Streets, and one block across, Avenue A to Avenue B. And in the park, it was easy to get lost in your own thoughts.  

I sat down on a bench and bent to pick up a small, twisted branch that had fallen off a tree, possibly from yesterday's rainstorm. I flicked it my hand and struck a few stones lying nearby. A few people passed, but I ignored them, lost in thoughts of Shelly.

I kinda liked him, even though he knew I couldn't get a woman pregnant in the way I thought. Now where did he learn about sexual reproduction in the early 1960s, reading on his own or in his school? No way did they teach that in my school, that's for sure...

I flicked the stick about, then tossed it away. It almost struck a man's leg. I sat up about to apologize, that, or at least to flee... 

But it was Dickie! Now what the hell was he doing here, shouldn't he be at work?

He smiled, plopping down on the bench next to me.

"How ya doin', kid?" he asked, pushing his hat back and adjusting his glasses, looking up and down the path. 

Surprisingly, I looked at him, as he reached for my leg and squeezed it just above the knee. I sat staring at him.

"You're still not mad, are you?" he said, once again looking around. 

I shrugged.

"How about coming with me?" he whispered, squeezing my leg again, much higher and more firmly.

I had gotten incredibly hard, lusting for his hands on me. A woman came walking up the path as he pulled his hand away. The woman walked past without her looking at us.

"You're such a nice little sissy," he quietly said, reaching for my crotch. He stroked, impressed by my hardness. "Mmm...very nice, baby. So nice..."

I wanted to lie on that bench and have him feel me up, but I cleared my throat and sat up, pushing his hand off me.

"How come you're here, no work?" I asked, also looking up and down the empty path.

He shrugged, again reaching for my crotch. "Off on Tuesday, have to work Saturday." He looked along the path and squeezed me harder. I was no longer resisting, just wary of someone seeing, but I really no longer cared who saw what, as long as he was doing it with me! 

"Let's go to my place, sweetie," he whispered and nodded, as I no longer was resisting. "You need a face-creaming, don't you?" He winked. "And you might even take it in your mouth, eh, Timmy?"

God, I didn't want to, but winked back and embarrassedly smiled. 

"Let's go, Timmy." 

I hurried out of the park with him. A pity we couldn't be holding hands, I thought, blushing as his hand accidently tapped mine. I was very eager and hard.

We sped up.

Chapter 20

We walked hurriedly to his apartment, quickly disrobing of our shirts and slacks where they fell and clutching and pawing we fell onto the bed.

Within moments his massive cock was shooting on my face, and I melted. It was a magical sensation, a feeling of newness and springtime. Cum, with a luscious, fragrant, dew-like aroma and taste that was the root of all creation in the Universe, and it smelled divinely beautiful. I've been scenting and lusting after it since my earliest childhood.

His softening penis plopped down my face, but it was still slightly hard. 

He smiled. I blushed and smiled back. Again, my penis jerked up.

"My, my," he said, pawing and squeezing my stiff cock. "Hard as a rock, and I love it!"

I felt about for his own penis, hoping for a hardness, but it was sticky and gooey, an almost dead-like and flabby muscle. 

"You want another face smearing, don't you, Timmy?" he asked. 

I hungrily looked up at him and nodded my head.

"Sorry," he sighed, "but I'm not a kid anymore, like you are. At my age a man can't do it more than two or three times a day, and that's about it."

He sadly looked at me, but mostly at the unfairness that is Life...

"But how come you do it with others even after you've been with me? I saw you going to the bathroom a few times."

He shrugged. "No big deal, I'm after hard, shooting dicks, just as they are. It doesn't mean anything to either of us. Sometimes I don't even see their faces, just their cocks."

He closed his eyes, as if dreaming of dicks but playing with mine. Still, I followed him to the bathroom with his arm around my shoulder. He peed as I stood watching, mesmerized by his throbbing muscle gushing out a rich, heavy yellowish stream of pee. He dribbled out a final few droplets, then moved aside to let me stand before at the toilet tank. 

I gratefully peed, too, trying to aim my erect cock into the bowl, but somewhat overshot the toilet, sprinkling and dribbling on the floor.

"Sorry, I bit so hard a few days ago," he said, gazing at my bite-marked dick. "I sucked so hard my teeth left marks on your dick, see?"

He pointed at my cock as I peed. I grimaced, looking at the splotches of red on my scarred muscle.

"Damn," I said, looking down at my bloodied stiff dick; I had seen it before.

"Not to worry, he shrugged. "That always happens in making love, like we just did." 

I gazed at him. "We made love?"

He nodded his head. "Uh huh, love like I'll always remember it to be. Will you, too, Timmy?"

I continued peeing and looking down at my dribbling cock. Its vibrant hiss was slowly fading.

Love, I thought, I just made love with a man, but doesn't love make babies? I remembered Pani Stetz and shook my head.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll remember."

Dickie laughed. "You think so?" he said, shaking his head. "Don't you know?" He shook his head and mumbled, "Just a kid, just a kid."

I blushed and asked, "What about the pee-pee I got on the floor?"

Again, Dickie laughed. "Forget it, kid, wasn't that much," and led me out of the bathroom. 

"You know, it really burns," I finally said, looking down at the bite marks on my dick.

"Oh, poor baby," he said, also gazing down at my dick.

He reached up and retrieved a medicine tube from a cabinet,

"Put this on, it'll help."

He sat me down at the kitchen table, the tube he had opened for a glob of Vaseline petroleum jelly, that its sticky but lovely coolness was instantly satisfied and revived me.

I nodded and blushed, looking at him. So, he's old, I thought, looking at Dickie. Big deal, can't be older than mom...

"How old are you?" I asked.

He smirked and snorted. "Let's say I'm my thirties, okay?" He looked curiously at me, and I turned away. 

"Okay," I mumbled, as we walked to the bedroom, our two dicks flapping before us. 

"What we did, Timmy," he said, clutching my hand, "not many would understand. They'd see it as abuse, of a grown man using a little kid. Do you see it that way?"

He looked at me, waiting.

"No," I mumbled. "So, you used me, so what? I wanted to be used. I was ready and willing, nothing wrong in that is there? Anyway, it was just a face-smearing, I can always say that."

He held my hands in his own, his wet eyes upon me.

"Oh, Timmy..." he grabbed me around my shoulders. "You're precious to me. So sweet, my gentle sissy, I love you." We kissed. "Do you love me?"

I looked at me and nodded.

"Do have many friends, one's you can confide in?"

I shrugged. "I don't need friends," I said. "They just want to use me and beat me up or take away what I got."

He looked at me, moving my face to his. "Not even one? C'mon, you can tell me..."

I sadly shook my head and shrugged. "Just other kids at school but they're mean."

Then it hit me, Shelly! He can be my friend.

I beamed proudly and gushed to Dickie about that morning and the previous day's talk in the library. But Dickie frowned. 

"I don't think Shelly will be coming around much anymore," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, his time's nearly up..."

"How come...?" I asked. "I thought you two were like boyfriend/girlfriend, you know, you seemed very close together."

"Listen, Shelly's a nice kid, don't get me wrong. But he doesn't do what girls are supposed to do, namely suck and swallow." I winced, I didn't suck and swallow either. "I told Shelly many times his three months are almost here and as soon as I find someone else, he'll be gone. And this week I found someone..." He looked and pointed at me, "You!' 

"Me? What do mean...me? I don't suck or swallow."

Not yet you don't, but very quickly you'll be getting there, that I'm very sure you'll be even better than the ones I've already had. Other girls, well, it takes them about a month or so to be a real swallower, but with you, I'll have you swallowing in less than a week." He beamed at me. "Baby, you're the greatest!"

I looked at him. Was it true I could be a swallower in a week or so?

"What makes you say that, how do you know it's me?"

"That's exactly what I mean, you," he beamed happily at me. "Shelly's out, you're in. What could be better than that?"

I shivered. I was in and Shelly's out, but what does that really mean?

"I don't understand," I said, pushing myself out of bed. "What do you mean out and what's in?"

Dickie burst out laughing. "Shelly knows what's what. His three months are almost over. Girls stay just three months, more or less, then a new one comes along. This is your time, honey," he said, beaming and stooping down to give me a kiss. "Your learning process is just about to begin, and I suspect you'll make a great cocksucker and swallower, once you learn how to do it correctly." And he tweaked my ass."

So, Shelly's out and I'm in. How easy could that be? Wouldn't it be great if all of life were like that, in, out, what could be better than that?

"But I'm not a girl, I'm a boy," I said, pushing his hands off.

He smiled. "My little boychick, that's what you are."

I looked at him. I had heard the Yiddish term countless times on our Lower East Side, even my dead landlord had used the term about me, but I never thought it was meant the way I was hearing it now.

"Boy, girl, what's the difference? I know boychicks make wonderful cocksuckers. You become what you were meant to be, a feminine boy, a queer sissy. You like that, don't you?" He looked at me, wickedly grinning. "That's what you always wanted to be, anyway. And you don't have to do much, just be yourself and become what you always wanted to be, a queer sissy cocksucker, an ass-humper, a swallower, a boychick!" 

And he beamed at me very proudly, nodding his head.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll quickly develop into an expert cocksucker. The best I've ever had!"

His smugness was very disturbing; I was getting nervous.

"Does Shelly know you're about to do this, let him go and have me stay; won't he be pissed?"

Dickie shrugged. "Shelly knows the rules; it's time for her to go anyway. You're next in line," and he winked at me and blew me a kiss. "But in three months it will be your turn to leave, stepping aside as a new sissy steps into your frilly clothes. Baby, all of life is constantly changing and growing up, and don't you forget it."

I was very confused. "I can't," I muttered. "I live with my mom; she won't let me go, not like this. I'm not your...wife." And I turned very red, the embarrassment going down to my arms and chest.

Dickie laughed. "Who said anything getting married or living together, though that would be so very lovely, indeed. No, you come here after school, or wherever, and I'll let you in, and we'll be together and do what we want to make us happy and satisfied, like sucking each other off, just acting like a married couple do. Wouldn't that be lovely?" 

He beamed at me. 

"If I'm not here...well, I'm not here."

He laughed.

"Once in a while, usually on long weekends, we can be like man and wife, but not legally, of course." He shrugged, smiling at me.

I smiled back, brightening. "So, I don't have to leave mom or my house?"

He shook his head, laughing. "Off course not, you live as you always lived. With your mommy..." But there was something sinister in the way he said mommy. "But remember, no one can know about our little secret. Anyway, they wouldn't understand about our true love, now, would they?"

I was looking down and he put his hand on my chin, uplifting my face. "Would they?" he repeated.

I looked into his shiny eyes, they seemed moist.

"No sir," I answered. "They would not understand. I'll keep our little secret between us."

I leaned into his chest, but still uncertain of what was happening.

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. 

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. 

Chapter 25

I jerked off a few times that night but each time I turned in my sleep, the thoughts about Pani Stetz and how nice to me intruded. Of course, interspersed with cruel Shelly lying about me, and Dickie running away from the puking boy, it's best I run from them and keep out of the way. 

But by dawn I was asleep, didn't even hear mom as she left to do her shopping, or whatever she was doing. It was after eight when I opened my eyes, and the image of Shelly invaded my thoughts. He no longer meant anything to Dickie. He was out, I was in. Or was I?

Dickie must have a stable coming over on different days, to learn how to do it and then service him. Shelly was out, I was in. In, out, just as in screwing. You stick it in, you pull it out. In, out, in, out...

I was stiff, rubbing my hardening cock. I let go. No, I wasn't going to do it. 

I leaped out of bed and thought about mom. Did she even suspect how much I had changed in just a matter of days. 

I shook my head and went to the bathroom where I sat down and peed. Ah, that always feels good. No matter how desperate you are, you still have to piss and shit somewhere. 

I flushed the toilet, turned on the hot water and waited. Damn, no hot water. I rinsed, dried my face, and went to the kitchen. 

Had a bowl of cereal and got enmeshed by the advertising on the back of the box about a puzzle concerning the states of the union, Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas... A puzzle of fifty states for fifty cents, plus postage and handling. I chuckled, obviously a rip-off of little kids. I put the cereal dish in the sink and went to get dressed.

But still, I was leery and apprehensive about going to Pani Stetz's apartment, after all Shelly was right above her. What if there was a hole in his floor Shelly could spy on us from above?  

I thought of Pani Stetz's ceiling but couldn't remember having seen anything up there. Seen what? Shelly peeking down and seeing the blowjob I was getting from his horny big-breasted neighbor? How did her blowjobs compare with Dickie's?

I grinned. She certainly knew better how to concentrate on the actual sucking, mysteriously covering her teeth with her lips and not with that bitter gnawing of Dickie. 

A lazy walk up First Avenue, gazing at the morning shoppers at the greengrocers getting to have their food at hand to prepare for tonight's dinner plates and meals. Mornings were my favorite time to watch them. When I was little, holding onto my mother's purse or bag, the women would push and try to grab a fruit or vegetable that some other shopper wanted. I was always amused by the battles for possession of food that would ensue.

I chuckled and turned on Eleventh Street, a quiet street with a few tenements, a barber shop, a beauty parlor, a florist, and a garage for automobiles. 

I stood in the doorway of Pani Stetz's building; it was only quarter to ten, still early. When I heard unmistakable woman's steps coming down the stairs. I darted out of the doorway and quickly skirted to the garage. A woman came out of Shelly's building. I breathed out; it was no one I knew. 

I noticed the garage man looking at me through his windowed office. I stepped back out from the garage and walked back to Second Avenue. I had about an hour to kill before I was expected by Pani Stetz and thought again I'd take a walk by the Second Avenue Park.

I frowned, thinking of the man who left me in the restroom because my penis was so badly bitten. The hell with you, mister! Pani Stetz had it in her mouth and liked it. Hell, put it in her mouth and sucked it without biting me Oh, they both are assholes, Dickie and the anonymous fairy man.

I entered the park. A few people sitting around the fountain reading books, newspapers, or just staring into space and smoking cigarettes. I winced from the memory of being unable to smoke menthol cigarettes. At school, some boys did that, lighting up cigarettes when they were trying to impress some girl; still I didn't know if they ever got the girl? 

On the sidewalk at Seventeen Street, I bent down and tied my sneaker. How many times did I do that in a day, tying my shoes, certainly a few times. It was my way of taking a break and surreptitiously eyeing someone following or me following them.

Then I saw him, the same man who called me a faggot kid from yesterday. He was sitting on a park bench, his legs crossed and smoking a cigarette. I had tied my shoelace and could either walk in dis direction or go back the way I had come. Pretending I had not seen him, I stood him and headed towards him. Damn, my penis was hard!

We must have noticed each other because we kept looking at the other. Yet a few times I turned away as I walked nearer but always turning back as if mesmerized by his penetrating gaze. He nodded as I drew near, and as a reminder, I nodded back at him.

"Out for a walk, I take it," he said, flicking his cigarette away.

"Yeah, out for some air," I answered. I stood before him, one leg uplifted to the bench as if undecided whether to take seat or keep standing. I sat down.

"Still mad about yesterday?" he asked.

"Nah, I understand why you did that," I said, looking at him. "I was damaged, sorry," I bent my head thinking, why don't I just leave?

"Don't be, kid," he said, touching and rubbing my knee. "If anyone has to be sorry it's the weirdo who did that to you. If anyone does that to you, I'd stay away from that creep. That's definitely a sorry loser, a bastard I wouldn't let near me again."

He let go of my knee and drew out his cigarette pack. I shook my head, as I declined his offer. "Have it your way," he said, and lit one up.

I liked this man sitting next to me; he was elderly, older than Dickie was, but he seemed to be more honest and certain in how he acted. No fakery or pretense in his nature. He was an old sissy relaxing on a park bench, and I was sitting and relaxing beside him. 

"In a day or so," he continued, drawing on his cigarette, "if that creep doesn't bite and damage you again, we'll get together and see where it goes from there." He smiled, looking up and down the paths, running his hand to my crotch. "Mm, very nice, you're hard already," and he winked. "Or you happy to see me?"

"Huh, what?" I looked at him.

"Never mind, kid. An old joke before your time, that's all."

I remembered that Dickie had told me the same thing about Mae West in an old movie of hers...

Again, he winked and stood up from the bench, flicking cigarette away and looking in the opposite direction. 

"See you in a few days," he said, "if you're alright, that is." He turned and followed the trail that skirted along the park. The trail led to the restrooms where we met yesterday.

Then I recognized what he was after. I turned red; a young man, perhaps a little older than I was, had climbed the single step to the restroom. In the doorway he looked behind him, then nodded and stepped in. A few steps more and the elderly man entered after him.

I winced from the fear and shame that I was not allowed entry into that public but private sanctuary.

I rubbed my crotch, then shook my head and hurried to Pani Stetz house; it was almost ten, anyway. 

Chapter 26

I was wary of going up the stairs in Pani Stetz's building, trying not to make a sound, but with these fairly news buildings there were many that had birthing cracks and groins. Every step I took was like a loud notice that signaled someone is there. Fortunately, no one opened their door, and I made it up to Pani Stetz's apartment. 

She almost instantly answered. standing in a long negligée, her large breasts braless, with a panty brief covering her crotch.

"Oh, it's you," she said, yawning.

I turned red from looking at her in the pink negligée, my mouth open.

"Thought it was Stahsh, he just left, too, a little while ago," and she winked. "Thought it was him coming back for more..." 

She looked out her doorway; I suppose looking for Stahsh, but grinned at me and shut the door.

"He was pretty wasted and so was I, but he had to go into work. Poor baby, I hope the boss is out and he can get a little sleep." 

She touched my arm, running her fingers up and down along my bicep.

"You know how to make coffee?" she asked, turning and going to a cabinet. "Here, make this instant Maxwell House, just boil water." She handed me a small jar of coffee.

"This is coffee?" I said, opening the jar and taking a whiff of the brand. But she had turned, yawned, and stood in the doorway. "Just add water, read the instructions, it's all there." And she left the room, though unsurely. I realized she was still drunk. Must have had some night with her beau, Stahsh... 

I grinned and rubbed my crotch, again breathing in the smell of coffee. It seemed too fresh and too fake at the same time. Mom kept something similar, but it was the cheaper brand from the A&P supermarket on Fifth Street. Mom liked it, I didn't.

The water boiled. I made her a cup and sat at the kitchen table awaiting her return. Damn, I shouldn't have made the coffee, what an idiot! Let her pour it herself from the jar. 

But five minutes, seven minutes, ten minutes went by and silence throughout the house. I stood up.

"Pani Stetz," I called. "Your coffee's ready."

Nothing but silence.  Maybe she's waiting for me in her room, I grinned.

"Pani Stetz," I repeated, peering into her bedroom. She had dropped on the bed, clutching a cannister of hairspray, which lay on its side with its flip-top cover removed. With her panties and bare breasts exposed out of the pink negligée, I instantly felt my hard-on pushing out in my pants. 

"Pani Stetz," I again whispered, taking a step towards her. She loudly snored, her throat gurgling chaotically. I wanted to lie down beside her and hold her in my arms, but the loud gurgle stirred her awake. She looked at me, as if trying to remember who I was. 

"Your coffee's ready," I said, having turned red. "Didn't know what happened to you?"

She sat up in her bed, holding her head. "Yes, yes," she mumbled, trying to focus her eyes, but they were bloodshot and wasted. "You came to...do something but can't remember what it was?"

"Fix your locks. Plus, you have a leak, it drips.""

By then she had slumped on the bed, her head dropping back; the hairspray cannister rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor. 

"Wha...!?" she bolted up and saw the cannister rolling along on the floor. "What the fuck was that?" She momentarily shut her eyes and made a face like she was in horrible pain. 

"Are you alright?" I asked. "The can rolled off your bed, that's all."

"Yes, yes," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "Just had a little too much with Stahsh. Listen, can you come back some other day?" she said, pushing herself up from the bed and staggering to the hallway. "I really need some sleep and to get sober once again." She looked sleepy-eyed at me. "Oh, can you take this bag out...has old clothes? Leave it with the other garbage bags. Thanks, you're a doll." She looked at me. "Stahsh is going to move in here, he needs a place. You don't mind, do you?"

Mind, why should I mind? I frowned but shook my head, picking up her garbage bag.

"Okay, tomorrow," I mumbled, "See you then..."

I stood looking at her doorway, but she just nodded and shut her door after me. I stood there then looked up the stairs, pulled my zipper down and gripped my cock. The ejaculation was almost immediate.

"Bitch!" I hissed and spat out. "Fucking bitch!" My semen lay on the floor, dull, not glistening. 

I thought of Shelly upstairs and stormed out of the building.

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.

Chapter 29

At that time of day, the Second Avenue Park was crowded with old-timers sitting next to other old-timers, gesticulating as they conversed --probably no hearing aids; those things sure cost money.

I walked around the park two or three times and couldn't find a seat. Oh, sure, there were seats here and there, but they were much too near to the old-timers, who, of course, didn't want a young snotty kid sitting and listening to their gab. 

Then I saw a spot, just vacated by other old-timers, and leaving one still sitting there. He curiously looked at me as I sat down, then crossed his legs and turned my way, facing me not far from where I had taken a seat.

What an old codger, I thought, but I was growing a bit nervous from his staring at me so steadily. Probably should have gone to the library instead and maybe get into another argument with Shelly? Nah, leave the sissy alone...

"Nice day," I heard, and as if coming to, I shook my head.

"Huh, wha..." I said, blinking my eyes. 

"I said, it's a nice day," he repeated and frowned, glancing in the other direction. He turned back to me. "Good to get away from your hard work, if that's where you're coming from?" And he winked.

"Yeah," I nodded, winking back at him. "Hard work is no good, you need some play time."

"Oh, yes, play time. Hm, do you work around here?"

I shook my head. "Just sitting, that's all."

He started getting up slowly and taking some steps towards me. "I'm Louis," he said, sitting down next to me and holding out his hand. "How come I never seen you here in the park?"

"Shelly," I replied, shaking his hand. My God, why did I say that? "I'm usually down at Tompkins Square Park, that's a nice, big park. Just came in here while I was walking on Second Avenue."

He smiled. "Yes, it is," he thoughtfully said. "Big park, but walking is nice, too." He looked at me, eyeing me carefully. I was getting paranoid from his scrutiny and feeling a bit tense. "Are you looking for something while you're walking," he asked, "or just looking?"

"Just looking," I shrugged, hoping I had gotten the stress and intonation correctly. He beamed.

"I thought so," he said, rubbing me on the kneecap. I grinned. But at that moment, coming up the trail, was the other old man I had talked with the day before, who had rejected me in the restroom. All three of us were looking at the other as if we knew each other, but we said nothing. The approaching man glared at the old codger and me but stepped up his pace and hurried past.

I shot off in my pants, doubling over.

Wow, that was three times I had cum in barely an hour or so. I was certainly a pervert or worse. And in my pants too... But I love that feeling of cumming, the blindness, the forgetfulness, the devil-may-care attitude that says, The hell with you!

"You know each other?" he asked, looking after the old man.

"Huh, wha..." I answered as if I was coming too. I cleared my throat. "We talk now and then," I shrugged, shaking my head, but breathing very heavily. Probably thinks this is the man who bit me up, I snorted. 

"I thought you did," he shrugged, and again gripped my kneecap. "But it's not my business who you know or don't know." I turned and glanced up the trail, but the old man was no longer there. Must have gone to the restrooms, I smirked.

"Is something funny?" the man asked, thoughtfully. "You seem to be not breathing very well. But smiling, too." 

We looked at each other; my breathing had relaxed and slowed.

"You seem a nice boy," he continued, "and so new to the park. Bet you have many friends in Tompkins Square."

I wanted to laugh. 

"A few..." I sighed, lowering my head.

As if we had something in common, he lowered his voice. "Feels like you're a virgin, are you?"

His eyes seemed very distant, far away, staring at me.

But was I a virgin or was I slut, hungry for anything and ready to put it out? Before Dickie or after Dickie, that was my question? And what about Shelly, before him or after him? And of course, Pani Stetz, can't forget her!

I shook my head, surprisingly brushing his hand off my knee, and stood up. "Sorry, have to go..."

"Wait, why are you going?" he asked. "We were just chatting, getting to know each other." He gripped my hand. "Please don't go..."

Isn't that what Dickie had first said, please don't go? I stood there looking at him, he didn't seem like a bad old man, was he?

"I just don't want to sit here anymore," I shrugged, "was going to continue to Tompkins Square, that's all."

I looked down at him as he bit his bottom lip and blushed. "You're such a naughty boy," he now lisped, shaking his head, "tsk, tsk, and wet down there too..."

"Huh, what wet?" Then I noticed that my thrice-spilled scum had finally saturated through the dark denim material of my pants and shone up at my crotch. I fell to his bench, feeling stupid.

"Aw," he shrugged, "but these things happen, if you're careless or just hot." He scratched his face, "Now which was it, careless or hot?"

I looked at him. "I guess both, careless and hot." I breathed out; I was exhausted. "But I guess I'm always hot, anyway."

"Hmm," he pondered, once again feeling my knee and reaching for my crotch.

An elderly woman walked by, looked at us, shook her head and passed by. 

But I did nothing to resist, just sit there with my moist damp dick getting bigger under his touch. But then he quickly moved his hand off my crotch as another man looked but walked past. 

Still, I sat there, not caring anymore of who saw what. How many times could I cum, I wondered, five, six, seven times. And doing it right in the open too!

"You want to go to my place," he whispered, "I live on Nineteen Street?"

Once again, he reached for my damp crotch, melting from his touch of my scum smeared stain. He raised his fingers to his nostrils and took a whiff, "Hmm, so very lovely..."

I shrugged but once again I felt the spasm seizing and rocking through my body, clenching my teeth, my eyes shut as the scum poured out of me into my already drenched pants.

I had cum again! So, what was that five or six times? But can I cum so fast? Defiantly a pervert!

"My God, young man," he blurted, finally understanding what was happening. "Control yourself!"

Still, I was at peace, barely opening my eyes. But then it hit me, I was on a park bench, in the open with a man sitting beside me and pawing me too... I pounced up from my seat.

"Wait..." I heard the man say. "Wait..." but I ran out of the Second Avenue Park.

Chapter 30

Damn, I was wet, drenched in my own scum and perversions that were getting me nothing but shame and ridicule. No matter where I went there was always the possibility of an erection, with an explosive cumming hovering nearby. 

I fled down Second Avenue, trying to stay near the buildings I passed. I imagined each passerby knew what I was ashamed of. It was a futile walk, shame and accusing looks everywhere. Or so I imagined. That's him, he's the masturbating boy!

Still, somehow, I made it to my front door and surged in. I breathed out in relieve. What will I do? and started making it up the stairs of the First Avenue apartment. I stepped to my doorway and turned the lock, pushing it open.

"Mom," I said, surprised at seeing her home, "I didn't know you were home?"

She looked sadly at me. "Little Shosha passed away this morning. Mrs. Johnson received a telegram from Shosha's mother," she shook her head. Mrs. Johnson from upstairs, a nosy old creep who knew everyone's business; we still didn't have the ability to access to phones in those days, she did, had more money coming in... 

"Bad accident," mom continued, "a truck hit her on the Bowery," she stopped, looking a bit thoughtful. "Now what was she doing on the Bowery, I'd like to know..." She looked at me, wiping her eyes. "There's a service tomorrow at Jerama's, we have to go..."

"Aw, mom, do I have to?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, you have to. How would if we didn't go? Don't be ridiculous, now wash up and I'll give you something to eat."

"You want to know what she was doing on the Bowery," I angrily erupted, "I'll tell you what she was doing, she was selling herself to any bidder who drove down Delancey Street to the Bowery, that's what! Thought she was going to do it in the Bronx, but no, she came back here..."

I crossed my arms over my chest, as if proving my point. Mom looked at me as though a secret had been revealed; she had suspected how much Shosha had quickly changed from sweet little girl to a brazen short-skirted Delancey Street hooker. 

"So, you don't want to go?" she sighed, looking at me.

I shook my head, thinking of all the people would come just to stare at Shosha. "No, you can go without me." We looked at each other. "Where's it going to be?"

She shrugged. "At Jerama's, where else?" Peter Jerama Funeral Home was the only Ukrainian funeral home in the area, a bastion of the neighborhood. Over the years, people have thronged individually into the area, but Peter Jerama always carted them out. People who lived elsewhere were also buried by him. 

"What happened, her slimy pimp get to her?"

"Stop it, I can't stand you talking like that!"

"I know, sorry, mom. But she was a teenage hooker..."

Mom glared at me, but sighed, "Who knows what will become of us in life, or even if there in a life?" and she sadly shook her head. 

"You should've seen in the evenings," I said, "showing off on Delancey Street, where all the truckers come off the Williamsburg Bridge, lining up truck after truck. She even tried to get me once before she recognized me..."

"What?!" she said, wide-eyed, staring at me incredulously. "Go to your room!" she exclaimed. "Right this minute, young man! The nerve of you to say such a thing about your Aunt Shosha..."

"I heard they call her Slut Susie, mom, and at five dollars a pop, not bad at all." I turned red, remembering I had asked for only a quarter. 

But mom had angrily walked out from the living room and slammed her bedroom door. I shrugged and went to my room, where I sat down on the bed, scratching my damp crotch.

I slid down my zipper and surprisingly my scum seemed to have dried somewhat. But damn, what a mess! My wet scum, overloaded with endless spurts of sperm, had saturated my white underwear, leaving a blueish tinge spread over the material. It wasn't watery but scum, dewy scented and desirous. I again wanted to jerk-off, but with mom home, I couldn't.

In a bit, I heard mom moving about the house. I pulled up my zipper and sat; the front door opened and slammed. Now what was that all about?

I was still, once again lying back on the bed, daydreaming about my active day. Drunken Pani Stetz, who was a beauty to me. The outraged tenant at Dickie's apartment building calling me the masturbating boy, which I was. Along with the dreamers in the Second Avenue Park, and on and on it went. Seems my day was very busy...

I un-zippered and removed my pants and underwear and tossed them on the floor. But boy was a I hot! I gripped my cock and thought about Shelly. He's out, I'm in. I shook my head. What rot Dickie spreads, nothing but a pack of bullshit...

By then my cock was rigid and eager for a cumming. But what was that fifth or sixth time I had cum? 'The masturbating boy' is right!

I moved the skin up and down, with a tingle of pre-cum already rising up my shaft. Then it gripped me, another ejaculation! My eyes clasped shut, one hand gripping the side of the bed, as my other circled the fingers around the spewing cock. And damn, I was thinking about Shelly... 

I smeared the dewy-scented scum on my chest and belly and tried to remember how many times I had cum that afternoon. Still, no matter what, my ejaculation was fantastic!

I got up and gathered the bluish underwear with the moist dungarees and went to toss them in a bag mom had for doing the laundry. It felt great to be half-naked and walking about... 

But I dressed in a fresh T-shirt and another pair of faded dungarees and ate some bread mom had lying in a bag on the kitchen table. Mom was always angry when I ate that way, saw dad doing it some years ago dipping his fingers in the white part while ignoring the brown crust around it. I felt guilty in doing that but still I kept doing it.

I put the brown crusted remains back in the paper bag and trotted downstairs.

Chapter 31

At four o'clock or so I was headed to Tompkins Square Park. It didn't matter who or what I'd find there, I'd walk into something, that's for sure. 

A noisy walk along Avenue A, with two women arguing in front of me, with each accusing the other of something, but who knows what it was... 

Until I saw Shelly, standing in a crowd of people and viciously eyeing me. He was waiting for the light to change, a useless wait because no one cared what it was on the Lower East Side, they just went and walked. 

I turned red from his bitter glance, but he huffily turned, crossed and walked away. I was sad but turned and went after him.

On Eight Street he walked by the Temperance Fountain and seemed to be headed to the Men's Room. I smirked and slowly sauntered there too, but by the time I was about to enter he was coming out.

Must have been a quick peeing or maybe there was no one inside?

He glared at me. "Hah, figures," he said, "this is your home from home, is it?"

"Look who's talking?" I answered, "sissy..."

"You're the sissy. I know all about what you will be doing next week, you're the real sissy."

"Oh yeah? Well, it takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

We glared at each other. "Get out of my way, sissy," he hissed and hurried down the path to benches near Tenth Street. He took a seat and fumbled with a cigarette, probably a menthol kind, I smirked.

His cigarette kept shaking in his mouth as he edged a match flame to it. Feverishly smoking and rocking his crossed leg he stared at me coming closer. "Sissy..." he quietly mumbled.

"We both are," I shrugged, and fell to his bench. I knew he had tried to hit me, but I no longer cared.

He angrily blew out his cigarette smoke 

"What were you talking about yesterday," I mentioned, "what counselor did you mean, and how come?"

He snorted and puffed his cigarette; the way he was speedily smoking he'd be done in no time. 

"Mama knows all about me," he said.

"She does, knows all about Dickie?"

He glared at me. "Grr, his name's Freddie, Freddie, Freddie, how many time must I say that to you, Freddie!"

I winced or pretended to wince, "Alright Freddie, she knows all about...Freddie?"

He quickly nodded and took another angry puff of his cigarette.

"Not about him," Shelly continued, "but she suspects there may be someone who is deluding me with sissy talk." He looked sadly at me, about to cry. "That's why I told her you're the sissy, anyway we're moving, going away."

"Going away, how come, where?

"She doesn't want people to know what I am, a sissy, just like you are. So, we're going to move to the Bronx, she has relatives there, and my counselor agrees. Mama says it will give me a good start, that I'll forget the sissy things that have sucked me into on the Lower East Side, this homo area." He looked at the park from Tenth Street, "Think I'll forget this place?"

I looked at him, obviously a sissy sitting there, just waiting to get picked up, and twirling a pack of cigarettes. I shrugged, "Tell your mama you don't want to go, you have friends here."

He snorted. "Like who? Mama knows I have no one, just her. Except for sissies like you." He wiped an eye. 

"That's right," I said, taking him by the hand. "I'm here almost every day." I turned red. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

He shook his head. "But we're moving," he blurted. "Go where people know mama and who don't know what I am, a sissy. She has to keep me hidden, it's too embarrassing if someone finds out. And my counselor fully agrees with her." 

He fingered his pack of cigarettes. "Here, take these, I can't have them, not with mama around." And he shoved his half-empty into my hands. "I'm sure they'll be sucked deeply with you around, you know how to suck, don't you? Anyway, you're learning." 

He snorted but kept looking at me, fluttering his wet eyes and faintly adding, "My sweet sissy..." He peeked my cheek, stood up and walked away. 

I did not go after him. I regretted I never kissed or never made it with him, except in the library, I suppose. I lowered my eyes and sat flicking my fingers on the pack her left behind.

Sissy, I thought, why'd he call me that? Was it so obvious?

I shook my head and looked at the cigarette pack. Three cigarettes remained. Did he smoke them all? But the way he had been smoking, one right after the other, it sure looked like he had. 

I flicked the almost empty pack, and one came out part way, as if teasing me to suck it up. I put it in my mouth then reached for a book of matches he had inserted in the cellophane paper around the pack. I felt nervous doing that but also very adult- like, too. 

I sucked in the flame and breathed out. Smooth and gentle, it felt as if my throat was being caressed and tickled by smooth fingertips. I drew on the cigarette again...and almost gagged.

Across the park on Ninth Street sauntered Dickie, looking back at some young men who just passed on the pathway. But he was always looking at young men, actually boys, they were his choice and pursuit. Shelly was young once but now he had grown too old, and it was my turn.

Old, but by whose standards? Shelly was eighteen, I was seventeen. He was out, I was in. But for how long? Maybe three months like Shelly, when I learned how to suck and swallow and, of course, take it up the ass, like a good girl should...

I blinked me eyes, Dickie had spotted me and was looking in my direction. What are the rules, am I supposed to hurry to him or just shake my leg and smoke my cigarette, Shelly's cigarette? 

I sat there nervously puffing the menthol smoke. Now, how do they do that, making smoking look so cool and refreshing?

Dickie started walking towards me. I flicked the half-smoked cigarette away; shards of lit embers sparked from the tip, as faint dying smoke flickered out. I glimpsed Dickie's shoes stop before me.

"Hello, Timmy..." I heard.

I looked up; he seemed nervous, unsure of himself.

"Yeah, hi," I answered.  He took a seat beside me, I slightly moved away. 

"Don't be like that," he pouted, edging his hat back. "Sit closer."

I didn't move, so he edged closer. I lit another cigarette.

"I thought you didn't smoke," he said, curiously looking at me. 

I shrugged, blowing out smoke in his face. "Just started," I said, looking at the single cigarette remaining in the pack. "Shelly gave me his."

"Shelly?" he said, looking around. "He was here?"

"Uh huh," I nodded, taking another cigarette puff.

"Gee, I thought he'd be gone by now, today's the first, isn't it?"

I looked at him. "Now, how the hell would I know, I guess, what's the big deal, anyway?"

"Well, the first of the month Shelly had to move. Which was perfect for me." He lowered his voice though no one sat near us. "You're in, he's out. Shelly knows how it goes." And he made a move to grope my crotch. I quickly pushed his hand off. 

"Get off of me, you creep!" Again, I moved down the bench. He sat sadly looking at me. "What happened with the boy yesterday," I asked, "in the bathroom? You did something to him, admit it."

He shook his head but shrugged. "Thought he was a sissy, it's not my fault he wasn't. But most kids that age are, look at you..." He scratched his chin and looking around the benches, as if he was getting bored with me. He focused on me again.

"You want to go to my place, Timmy, for a little quick one? I'm expecting a sweet negligée you can try," he winked and licked his lips.

Needless to say, but the conversation with Shelly and now with Dickie had my crotch stiff and hard. Still, I shook my head. 

"I won't be coming up there, anymore," I said, standing up. My erection was clearly discernable in my faded dungarees, an obvious bulge. He eyed it.

"C'mon, just a fast one, you can leave right after that," he said, very hungry for my body. "And this weekend, on Sunday, you can come up and spend the entire day with me, how about it?"

I looked at him, one part of me desperate to follow him to his place, while the other part desperate to run away and flee. I shook my head.

"No," I said, and turned from him. He angrily stood up.

"Don't think I can't find another sucking lover, younger than you are. They're a dime a dozen here in the park. "

He haughtily stood there glaring at me. Across the park a young boy strode past, in shorts and T-shirt, looking like the small boy Dickie had been admiring just a day ago.

"By this weekend, I'll have two or three boys trying to suck my cock, which you don't even know how to do yet." He glared at me. "But I don't think you'd have been a very good cocksucker at that." He looked at me, shaking his head. "Oh, fuck you, you asshole!" he spat out, then turned the other way to the restrooms and the little boy in shorts.

I hesitated but didn't light my last cigarette. I turned and walked home. 

Chapter 32

Late the evening, mom came home from Jerama's Funeral Home. Boy, that was fast, she was killed that morning and by the nightfall they already had her in the funeral casket. 

After having some tea, mom sat at the kitchen table and sadly said, "You're right, the sweet kid was a...prostitute," the word was hard to come out.

"A hooker, mom," I added. "The guys say they hookers, if you want to know the real word for prostitute."

"Don't say that," she said, getting up and starting to refill her teacup. "Did you something to eat?"

"Some spaghetti from last night," I nodded. "Heated it up, it wasn't bad."

"You should have seen the fancy women that came by the funeral home, most of them were stoned or already drunk."

"Oh, mom, do you think I don't know what goes on in the Lower East Side of New York City?" We looked at each other. 
"She may have lived in the Bronx, but she came down here to get some money. Anyway, I'm not a little kid anymore, I'm seventeen."

She snorted. "And I suppose, that's what makes you a man, is that right?" We looked at each other. "It takes a little more to be a man than just being grown up, even some grown up men are just losers and real jerks, and they have kids with wife they're responsible for. When you're grown up, don't be like them, please?"

Whatever it was, I nodded. Because I knew such men, actually, grown-up kids. I had come across them in the neighborhood, adults who get pleasure in shaming and using others, as if they were little kids. 

What was the pleasure in that? But obviously they gloated over it as they stood there so victorious. 

I yawned. 

"Go to bed," said mom. "It's late."

It was a little after nine, but I yawned again and went to my room.

Chapter 33

The next morning mom had already left for the funeral parlor, I supposed, when I awoke. It was a warm sunny day when I started walking to Eleventh Street, turning west and heading toward Pani Stetz's building, that is, Shelly's old building. Did he move, I wondered, like he said he would do?

Close to Second Avenue the street was quiet, just the usual car traffic from the mid-block garage. I climbed up the stairs to Pani Stetz's place when I heard men's voice up above me. 

"Don't worry," said a gruff man's voice. "I'll fix it for you. I'm the super. I know about these things. I help new tenants."

I grinned and shook my head. Yeah, the way he was going to fix Pani Stetz's dripping faucet, I thought, drip, drip, drip... 

I gripped my cock and knocked on her door.

Almost instantly she opened it, with her face red.

"Good morning," she said, "Nice to see you so very early. Come in, come in," and she shut the door behind her.

"Just came to fix your drip," I said, very awkwardly, and staring at her purplish negligée.

"Oh, never mind the drip," she said, looking at me. I had followed her to the living room where just a day ago I had felt her warm and soft big breast. "Tell me, did we do anything? I was out of it. I don't remember much..."

"Do anything?" I shook my head, almost smiling. "Like what..."

She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out; I saw it was the menthol kind, the same as Shelly had been smoking, a woman's brand. But I rather liked them, too. I pulled mine out and she didn't say anything as I lit my last one.

"You know," she blushed but continued, "what we were not supposed to do, making doity..."

I looked quizzically at her. "Doity, what's that?"

"Oh, c'mon, you know, when two people get together they eventually have to make doity." And she looked at me, fluttering her eyelids. "It's what keeps the world rolling around."

"Oh, that, you mean, making dirty, having sex," I said, blushing and looking surprised. "You mean like filthy fucking?"

She faintly smiled and poured herself another coffee.

"You get it when you can..." I smirked at her.

She looked at me and puffed on her cigarette, slightly blushing. "Well, did you like it?"

"Yes, I did," I replied, nodding my head, I took a final puff of my cigarette and put it out. "Pani Stetz, you were fantastic, never had one like you before, that's for sure."

"And you've had many, I suppose, at you age?"

"No, not many, just a few. I'm still young, you know," I said and winked at her, rubbing my stiffened crotch. But I had to wonder, from where did that bravado and boasting come from? I never had sex with a woman, yet I was acting as if I've had many...

"Well, I didn't have many clothes on, I suppose," she smirked, quickly finishing her coffee and putting out her cigarette next to mine. "And I was pretty hot..." and she shook her head ang blushed. "Stahsh can't do much when he's been drinking. Sure, am glad you were around, yes, I was."

And she sat down next to me and leaned in for a kiss. She kissed me back as if she was famished, ripping up her negligée while undoing my shirt and pants, whisking off my underwear. 

That's it's amazing how easy my first fucking actually was, of a penis piercing a cunt like chocolate melting in a mouth. Fucking her was the easiest and most natural thing in the world, for a man and a woman, or a teenage boy and his adult lover, but I was certainly a man!

Then I thought of Dickie...Oh, screw him, little twerp don't mean shit!

We were drained and exhausted. But she pushed herself up and got off the couch.

"Have to see Stahsh this afternoon," she said, starting to comb her hair, "but you with you around, I sure don't want too." And she blew me a kiss.

I also got up off the couch and began putting my clothes back on. "I know what you mean, I just want to spend a little more time with you."

"Listen, come back tomorrow, we'll make doity again," and she winked. "But this time in the bedroom, on a real bed to lie down in, okay?"

"What about Stahsh," I asked, "won't he be here?"

She shook her head. "He'll be working in New Jersey, some client down there. Leaves early, comes back late. They do gardening, Stahsh likes it, flowers and stuff, you know. We'll spend all day together, it will be perfect, no?"

I grinned and nodded, "Yes, ma'am, perfect."

We smirked at each other, and I headed to the front door.

"Do you like me?" she asked, looking very embarrassed.

"Oh, yes, I do, very much."

She blushed and gave me a little peck. I was out the door and cheerfully walking up the street. 

Chapter 34

I was very happy, ecstatic really, about time that I was a man and not just a little go-nowhere kid, as I thought I had been before. Now would come the real womanizing me, and I was more than ready, that's for sure. 

I wanted to screw every woman that passed me by, beautiful and attractive or washed-up and dowdy. Made no difference to me as long they had a cunt that could be filled, and I was more then ready to enter and fill. 

But what about sissy men, was I going to leave them alone from now on?

On Fourteenth Street I stood and looked at the branches of the Second Avenue Park, a block away. My penis tingled with a hardness as I watched a man enter the restrooms on Fifteenth Street. Damn, do I go after him? Wasn't my lust satisfied by a woman just moments ago?

I turned and sauntered into the park. More people were sitting around but the hot humid air had receded a bit, it wasn't as stagnant as the day before. 

But I was leery, looking at each sitter as if I could recognize something in them, but what? The sexual chase had been going on for millennia, so why did I think it would be different if I joined the pursuit? Go after men, go after women, in the end what's the difference? Two bodies are becoming one in copulation --ah, bliss!

I fell onto a bench near Seventeenth Street holding on to my stiffened crotch. Man, I wanted to jerk off and fast, too. 

Then I saw him, the old man who had been repelled by my bitten dick a day or so ago. He didn't nod but coldly kept walking, shaking his head, and angrily smoking a cigarette. Was he pissed off that I had been sitting next to the other old man? Weird, that's for sure. Men can be just as petty and jealous of each other as women are. Small world, indeed.

I kept looking around when I instantly brightened. There was the friendly old man I had run away from a day ago and he was walking right in my direction. Funny, but I had been thinking of him just now.

I smiled and rubbed my hard crotch, adjusting it to show my erection more clearly. All the while, my face turning red. I stretched my legs, the obvious stiff bulge protruding upwards.

"Well, well, young man," he said, taking a seat beside me. He lowered his voice, "I see you're still horny, that's what I like about young men. Tell me, how many times have you cum today?"

I snorted. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, if you're looking, I'm looking too, are you?"

I shrugged.

"Listen, I live nearby on Nineteenth Street, we can go there."
I remained sitting and looking at him. "You like to do anything? You name it, we'll do it." He winked; I winked back.

"Sure," I quietly said, shyly staring at him, "I like getting facials."

He curiously looked at me. "Facials, what's that?" he asked. "Can't say I've heard of it."

I blushed. "You know, when you're about to cum you shove your dick in my face and let it dribble down..."

He shut his eyes and seemed to swoon, moving his head slightly back and forth. But then a spasm rocked his body, as he shivered, exploding into deep heavy breathing. Looking at him I knew he had cum. I was very hard, too, just seeing at it.

"Are you alright?" I nervously asked. 

He opened his eyes; they seemed to be pasted together.

"Dribble," he muttered. "Scum dribbling down your face...oh, God, so lovely." He pushed himself nearer, taking me by the hand. "Can you cum on my face, also. I want to be like you, a facialist. You know," he whispered and blushed. "Young man, you made me cum just now. Now, that hasn't happened in quite some time."

I dreamily looked at him, certain I was going to cum, too. This was even better than being with Dickie or Shelly. I was breathing very heavily. I dreamily rocked my legs. 

"So, you shot your spunk, eh? And in your pants --very, very nice, indeed. But can you do it again, on my face?"

He his eyes and squinted as if looking very far way.

"Oh, God, yes, yes I can," he began to get up.

I also stood and we walked out of the park. Something made me recall a long time ago.

"You ever been to Coney Island?" I asked, biting my lip.

He looked at me. "Why, yes, now that you mention it. I used to spend lovely times there, with lovely boys," and he blushed. "Funny you should remind me of those days; I used to live in Brooklyn in those days. Why do you ask?"

I was silent walking up First Avenue. 

"My parents used to take me there in those days, when I was little... Something reminded me of that time, that's all."

We were silent, walking next to the other.

"Something good?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I was just remembering what it felt like..."

He looked at me. "Must have been lush and delicious, no?"

"Not really, I was told to keep my eyes closed or else I wouldn't get a surprise." I shut my eyes as we waited for the light to change.

"How old were you?"

I opened my eyes. "Oh, maybe ten or so, anyway, still little, it's impossible for me to know what was going on."

He was silent, "And in all this time, you're still waiting for your surprise, is that it?"

I shrugged. 

"I was just a little kid; he was an adult who used me, actually cheated on me, ripped me off."

"Was it really cheating? Or did he leave you with a memory of what spunk on your face can be like, cool and lovely? Forget about him just remember what it felt like."

I looked at him. He was right, the hell with who he was and remember what he did --shot scum all over my face. At that moment I stopped with my eyes shut and felt the spasm through me as I shot my scum into my dungarees. He also stopped and hungrily stared at me. I'm sure he knew what had just happened. 

"We're almost there," he whispered, "just a few more doors. By the way, what's your name? I know I asked you yesterday, but I forget..."

I looked at him. "Shelly," I said biting my lip.

He smiled. "Shelly, a lovely pretty feminine name. So, Shelly desires a face-creaming, eh?" he quietly and dreamily said. "I'm sure we can supply her with one, but she has to give us a face-creaming, too."

I leered and winked at him.

"I'm going to shoot my scum all over you face," I wickedly said, "and watch it dribble down to your chin..."

He stared at me, openmouthed. "Oh, God, yes, yes, same here, young man, yes I believe I'm going to cum on your face, too. God, the thought me hard again. Can't wait to get upstairs."

We reached his address.

"This is my place," he said, opening the front door.

"Whew, about time," I said.

We went into his building with our two stiff erections poking out before us. We hurried up the stairs.

The End