I have had more than a nodding acquaintance with the unemployment beaurocracy in the past. In fact I have come to think of it as my second career (at times, my first). It was a cold Wednesday in January. The snow had long since given up any attempt at being a cheerful white and had retreated into the gutter to form small islands known as City Snow. You know, the kind that is almost black from being encrusted in weeks worth of city air. It looked like it would last well into mid-July. Nothing short of a blow torch would budge it. Winter was in high gear. My coat doesn't prove much of a barrier to the wind. It seeps in like a water to a sponge, from the top and bottom, front and back. People hurry by in the traditional shoulders hunched posture of winter, keeping their eyes fixed on the pavement directly in front of their feet. Does hunching your shoulders make you warmer? It must, otherwise why would people do it?, Never seems to work for me though.
As I arrive at the unemployment office for my bi-weekly check signing ritual I am greeted by a line that seems to stretch to infinity. I groan. I unpackage myself and am resigned to spend the better part of the afternoon on line. Fortunately I have brought a book for just such an eventuality. Unfortunately it isn't War and Peace. I am surrounded by smokers. It's inevitable. I hate cigarettes. Whenever I'm on any line, or in any theater, the smokers will somehow manage to arrange themselves around me in such a strategic manner as to insure oxygen starvation within 30 minutes and reduce visibility to 3 inches. However I wasn't going to let the inconsiderate bastards win. I have my strategy all planned out. Even though I have neglected to bring fog lig hts I know I can find the counter if I follow the trail of orange glows and listen for the words, "sign here". My strategy of reading straight through this ordeal is in trouble however. Somehow I manage to finish several chapters but after glancing up for the fiftieth time I realize I haven't the slightest idea what I read.
My mind begins to wander. I must have had a dazed expression on my face as my eyes wandered across the room (what I could make out of it). Men. Many of them young. Construction workers between jobs, military men just out of the service, drivers, mechanics, government workers. Every one with a different story. Different background, different motivations but the same needs. Money, food, shelter, clothing. Sex. The sexual energy was palpable if one tuned to the right frequency. Men. Out of work. Restless, tense, strained, looking for satisfaction, fulfillment, release. I could see the sparks jumping from the slim lean hips overthere. There's an amazing basket behind tight black jeans on that one. I notice an Asian fellow in front of me. My eyes follow him as he approaches the information counter. I become hypnotized by the motion of his firm perfect buns as he walks away and imagine my hands touching them. He stops for a moment, my eyes linger. Then he is gone. I try to imagine these men behind closed doors, spreading their legs luxuriously bringing their hand to their crotch......
The slight bulge between the legs of that Puerto Rican with wavy jet black hair, do I see a firmness there, pushing, moving, searching for a more comfortable position as he shifts from one leg to the other? I watch the dance a little longer; a little hint of an outline here, a suggestion of a shape there. My eyes travel up along the buttons on his shirt. The top two are undone. Why isn't he wearing an undershirt? Isn't he cold? The firmness of his belly and chest are apparent through the material. Our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat. I shift my gaze but don't look away. I notice he continues to look my way. My heart beats faster, by breathing becomes shallow. I realize my desire is becoming to obvious and shift the coat that I was holding to cover my crotch. Had he noticed? How could he not have? The excitement of cruising is walking that thin line between revealing to much and to little; playing with the subtle dance of two energies trying to sence eachothers properties. Knowing when to look away, when to disengage, when to leave the option of leading to your partner can mean the difference between dancing all night and going home alone. The uncertainty of the outcome makes a connection that much more satisfying. Had I misstepped? Had I crossed over an invisible line? Was he looking at me in anger or responding to my interest?
I try to remain casual while my heart was racing. The snaking line crept along. As we get closer and closer to each other I get more and more uncomfortable. I don't look at him as we pass. Now he is behind me and I am relieved to have an opportunity to regain my composure. I feel the whole room must be watching the drama. We pass eachother twice more, the last time just brushing as we pass. Was that a faint smile on his lips. I reached the counter first and pray they wouldn't send me to unemployment limbo known as C section, in which people have been known to vanish and never be heard from again. I must have been tense because the clerk told me it wasn't necessary to engrave my name just sign it. Everybody's a comedian. As I left the counter I can see him but he can't see me. There were maybe ten in front of him.
For some people cruising is as casual as going out for the Sunday paper. I am not one of those people. For me it's high drama. I'd passed up too many opportunities in the past, which I later regretted. I was determined not to add to that list. I stationed myself by the door so that he couldn't leave without my seeing him. Seconds passed; minutes. I shift nervously. What could be taking so long? Oh no, maybe they sent him to C section. Suddenly there he is. He hasn't seen me yet. I go to the first door and hold it for him. He notices me. As I hold the second door I pause for a moment. His hand brushes across my ass as we exit. Our eyes meet. Sunlight splashes across his face. As it glances across his skin I notice the beautiful smooth olive luster, like finely crafted and polished wood. The catchlights swim in the deep brown pools of his eyes. I catch my breath. "Hi", I smile. He smiles back. "Hi". "Boy, what a line, I thought we'd never get out of there", I begin brilliantly. "Yeah what a line, something huh?", he matches my brilliance.
We begin the process of feeling each other out (as opposed to up)." My name is John." "I'm Jose." "You from around here?", I enquire. "Nah, I live on Grand St., over the bridge, where you from"? "I'm in Queens, near Forest Hills". "And they send you all the way to Brooklyn"? "I think they send you to the farthest one just so you won't get to like it to much", I try to be amusing. "Nah, they wouldn't do that". It quickley becomes apparent we won't be discussing Nietzsche over tea and crumpets this evening. Perhaps his talent lies in another direction. As we walk down the street we exchange work and personal backgrounds. I was surprised to find out he was in the navy. Just what I've always wanted: a sailor. "It was real interesting.I went all over the world. Remember that bombing in Beiruit? I was on one of the ships they sent in." I try open ended questions to test his response. "Is it true what they say about sailors?" "Yeah, well that depends on what they say, some of it is". I get bolder, "Can't have much of a sex life on board ship I guess." "Well you'd be surprised", is his only response.
As we walk aimlessly and talk we start to relax. Our hands brush and our shoulders bump, I'll touch his shoulder to make a point and he'll touch me. Our eyes meet often. We walk close together. I glance at his body admiring the outline of his firm ass. He keeps the zipper of his coat half way up and the top buttons on his shirt are still open. The wind thoughtfully flaps his shirt opened and closed to reveal small hard brown nipples standing out on his broad smooth chest. I resist the strong urge to take one of them in my mouth.
I can just make out the shape of his ribs and the gentle waves of muscle on his stomach. As a train roars by on the elevated tracks above us I pause to look in a store display. He follows me and stops just behind me and to my left. I can smell his sweet breath and feel it on my neck, and the warmth of his leg and hip pressed my thigh. We stay that way for endless seconds. I turn slowly. We face eacholP;)?His breathing is more obvious. His eyes flash. In that moment we understand eachother, our destination becomes clear. Now for the logistics.
As we resume walking I try to stear the conversation in a more productive direction. Burned out tenement shells stand against the orange glow of sunset as we turn the corner. The last shining spikes of fire peirce the ruins and shoot out through gaping holes where once were windows. With each step new sparks appear and vanish, flashing like broken glass. The wind blows our words down the street and into the gutter with the empty coffee cups and plastic wrappers. Darkness descends and the streetlights wink on. We walk together in silence for a while. "Starting to get cold. Hey, ya doing anything tonight, Jose"? "Yeah, I got a date with the President". "Think he'll mind if you're late?" "Nah, he'd rather go fuck Nancy anyway" We laugh out loud together, acknowledging our mutual predicament of endless supplies of unproductive time on our hands, and fear of an uncertain future.
We drive to my house in the silence of mutual understanding. He asks me to stop at a McDonalds for a bite to eat. The thought of doing so repulses me, but I pull in anyway. I decline to join him saying,"It's against my religion, I'll just wait here". "You Jewish"?, he says. "No - healthy, I like health food", I say, hoping to keep the explanation as short as possible. Through the plate glass I watch him bring up the rear (literally) as the line he's on slowly creeps along toward the robotic counterperson. The image of my lips on his firm round nipples keeps recurring. His order seems to take forever. My desire for him is becoming more insistent. But finally he emerges carrying his (the thought amuses me) two all beef patties and special sauce. Soon I'll be filling his order. At a stop light I ask, "Ever do it with a guy on ship"? The question makes him uncomfortable and he becomes evasive. "Oh well, ya know sometimes ya just gotta do something or ya go crazy. Sometimes it's a couple of weeks before ya see land. I hear a lot about that stuff going on but I don't see much. You can find it if ya know where to look though". I'll bet I know where to look. I feel the pants at my crotch expanding. I think he notices as he glances over. Suddenly I get angry at the driver whose been ahead of us for the last fifteen minutes. "C'mon shithead, let's go". I regret betrayQneke impatience as I jab the accelerator with my foot and jerk the wheel to the right to pass the coma victim. I glare at him as I shoot by. Jose offer me some fries and I take a few for public relations purposes.
"Well here we are", I say as I pull into the driveway, "the Taj Mahal. I think it's safe to go in, the tours have ended for the day. Sure hope the servents remembered to clean up". "Must be a bitch being rich", he says. "Murder". I hold the door for him as we enter and catch his clean sent as he goes by. We sit at the kitchen table, he moping up the the ketchup with the remaining fries and I munching on a rice and buckwheat dish I had in the fridge for just such an occasion. "Do you like that stuff. Looks kinda tasteless", he offers. Determined to do an end run around that conversation I counter with, "Feel like some TV? C'mon, let's see what's on". He grabs my arm as I get up and I sit back down. He pulls a joint from his pocket holds it in front of his face, suddenly very serious and asks, "Wanna toke"? My focus shifts between the joint and his eyes. I notice his long curved lashes for the first time as his eyes are fixed on mine and debate with myself whether to take up his offer. Normally I avoid drugs of any kind but a chance to fulfill a fantasy doesn't come along very often and, I decide, this time caution takes a back seat to passion. "Sure let's go in here." He follows me to the couch.
I turn on the TV. Jose has already lighted the joint. As I sit on the opposite end of the couch watching him put it to his lips I can feel the excitement and anticipation start to build. He inhales deeply, strains to keep from coughing and offers the joint to me as the twisted ropes of smoke curl toward the ceiling. Almost before the smoke hits my lungs they are on fire. My head is spinning and my heart starts pounding in my chest while I strain to hold it in. I hand back the lethal cigarette with tears in my eyes the steam explodes from my lungs in coughing spasms. Jose is amused. He smiles the knowing smile of an expert acknowledging the foibles of a novice. Slowly he gets up, walks over, sits down next to me and says "I'll show you how it's done". He watches me steadily for a moment, then slowly, deliberately takes a long deep toke, leans over me and presses his lips to mine. I am helpless to resist. My mouth opens and the hot passion of his lungs erupts into mine. My heart is racing. Our lips glide past oneanother and my tounge finds his. I put my right hand behind his head and my left on his ass. I pull him closer and feel his dick moving, pressing hard against me through his jeans.
We race to remove our clothes. I watch his uncut hardon pop out as he removes his briefs. He wins the race and helps me come in a close second. Quickly we are in eachothers arms pressed closely together kissing deeply. I want all of him all at once and can't decide where to start. My lips slide over his neck. As my hand slowly closes over his full dick he sighs. I take his tight almost hairless balls in my mouth and release them several times. My tounge slides up and down his thick shaft. I want badly to take it in my mouth but resist. He arches his back and moans lightly. I feel the strength of his hard dick as my fingers close around it and lightly stroke it. I lean back and watch his solid smooth powerful body respond. My lips close delicately around his hard firm nipple and touch it with my tounge as my fingers twist and massage the other one. "AAHHHHH" he responds, "MMMMMMMMMM" and starts running his fingers through my hair. I work on the other one as I lay on top of him feeling his dick pressing and rubbing against my belly. My hand travels over his body savoring the smoothness and tightness of his skin beneath my fingers.
He suddenly gets up and pushes me down on the bed. He straddles me on his knees and starts slowly stroking himself. I know what he wants. I want him inside me. I want him to fuck me, bad. I reach over to the drawer and get a rubber, rip open the package (hoping I hadn't damaged the contents in my haste) and handed it to him. He pauses, looks at it, frowns but with my assistance puts it on. I am more excited as I watch it unroll slowly on his rock hard shaft that stands out straight on his flat belly like a nail on a board. I get the cream from the drawer and hand it to him. He knows what to do. As we kneel facing eachother he puts the lube on his finger, touches it to my asshole and starts to massage it slowly and his finger slips in. I inhale sharply. I want him inside me desperately. I take his dick in my hand, move closer and rub it against my asshole. He pushes me down again, almost roughly. I raise my legs and put them on his shoulders. He puts some lube on his sheathed cock, presses it against my hole and gives a little shove. I gasp from the pain, put my hands on his hips and ask him to withdraw. I breath deeply for a few moments. He waits, not sure what to do. "Slow", I say, "OK"? We try again. He applies gentle firm pressure this time. Slowly the head of his dick enters. "You OK"?, he asks. "Yeah, you got it". He pushes and I watch his thick brown cock slide completely into me until the bush of his curly pubic hair is pressed against my balls.
The first few strokes are uncomfortable and I ask him to go slow but gradually I relax and he moves more freely. I take his hand and put it on my nipple. As he starts to rub, press and twist my tit, through half closed eyes I look into his, put my hands on his ass and guide him in and out. He understands what I want and starts shoving harder and deeper still watching my eyes for response. I watch the muscles on his legs and stomach ripple and move, and his balls swing with each plunge. The cream is lying next to me. On an impulse I put some on my middle finger and without warning press it up into his asshole. Judging by the look of surprise and his frantic pleading expression on his face no-one had ever done this to him before. He starts to protest but doesn't and begins pumping harder, firmer, more deliberately. At the same time my finger probes the soft inside of his asshole. I love watching his cock plunge in and out, his firm washboard belly pounding against my hips. "OOOOO, yeah, that's nice, yeah, you're doing real good Jose, ahhhhhhh", I encourage him. To break the tempo I urge him to slow down, but he won't. He becomes wild. His strokes become quicker and shorter. His eyes glaze, his tounge sticks out and he starts breathing in rasps, making a sound from his throat with each quick thrust, "UH, UH, UH". "You like when I stick my finger in your asshole"?, I move my finger for emphasis. He responds with a grunt and more frantic movements, then stops fucking for a moment and presses his ass down on my finger. He moans when I finger fuck him. Suddenly I feel his ass tighten and he starts fucking with shorter quicker strokes and louder more desperate groans. I stroke my dick to match his rhythmn and feel the heat beginning to rise. His asshole closes around my finger in spasms and I plunge it in deeper. He lets out three or four loud gasps, "AH, AH, AH, AH". I grab Joses ass tightly and pull him into me as he watches my cum start spilling out over my belly and chest. I see only his hard smooth dark body pressed against mine as I gasp for air.
He withdraws slowly and we fall together exhausted. After cleanup operations we lay in eachothers arms, motionless, for many minutes, neither of us wanting to move. I turn to him, kiss his forhead and draw my fingers lightly across his smooth olive cheek, which in the dim light looks almost black. He runs his fingers through my hair and gently kisses me on the lips. I shiver. Suddenly I'm cold. I pull the blankets up to our chins and we close our eyes. Good night sweet prince, wherever you are.
As I arrive at the unemployment office for my bi-weekly check signing ritual I am greeted by a line that seems to stretch to infinity. I groan. I unpackage myself and am resigned to spend the better part of the afternoon on line. Fortunately I have brought a book for just such an eventuality. Unfortunately it isn't War and Peace. I am surrounded by smokers. It's inevitable. I hate cigarettes. Whenever I'm on any line, or in any theater, the smokers will somehow manage to arrange themselves around me in such a strategic manner as to insure oxygen starvation within 30 minutes and reduce visibility to 3 inches. However I wasn't going to let the inconsiderate bastards win. I have my strategy all planned out. Even though I have neglected to bring fog lig hts I know I can find the counter if I follow the trail of orange glows and listen for the words, "sign here". My strategy of reading straight through this ordeal is in trouble however. Somehow I manage to finish several chapters but after glancing up for the fiftieth time I realize I haven't the slightest idea what I read.
My mind begins to wander. I must have had a dazed expression on my face as my eyes wandered across the room (what I could make out of it). Men. Many of them young. Construction workers between jobs, military men just out of the service, drivers, mechanics, government workers. Every one with a different story. Different background, different motivations but the same needs. Money, food, shelter, clothing. Sex. The sexual energy was palpable if one tuned to the right frequency. Men. Out of work. Restless, tense, strained, looking for satisfaction, fulfillment, release. I could see the sparks jumping from the slim lean hips overthere. There's an amazing basket behind tight black jeans on that one. I notice an Asian fellow in front of me. My eyes follow him as he approaches the information counter. I become hypnotized by the motion of his firm perfect buns as he walks away and imagine my hands touching them. He stops for a moment, my eyes linger. Then he is gone. I try to imagine these men behind closed doors, spreading their legs luxuriously bringing their hand to their crotch......
The slight bulge between the legs of that Puerto Rican with wavy jet black hair, do I see a firmness there, pushing, moving, searching for a more comfortable position as he shifts from one leg to the other? I watch the dance a little longer; a little hint of an outline here, a suggestion of a shape there. My eyes travel up along the buttons on his shirt. The top two are undone. Why isn't he wearing an undershirt? Isn't he cold? The firmness of his belly and chest are apparent through the material. Our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat. I shift my gaze but don't look away. I notice he continues to look my way. My heart beats faster, by breathing becomes shallow. I realize my desire is becoming to obvious and shift the coat that I was holding to cover my crotch. Had he noticed? How could he not have? The excitement of cruising is walking that thin line between revealing to much and to little; playing with the subtle dance of two energies trying to sence eachothers properties. Knowing when to look away, when to disengage, when to leave the option of leading to your partner can mean the difference between dancing all night and going home alone. The uncertainty of the outcome makes a connection that much more satisfying. Had I misstepped? Had I crossed over an invisible line? Was he looking at me in anger or responding to my interest?
I try to remain casual while my heart was racing. The snaking line crept along. As we get closer and closer to each other I get more and more uncomfortable. I don't look at him as we pass. Now he is behind me and I am relieved to have an opportunity to regain my composure. I feel the whole room must be watching the drama. We pass eachother twice more, the last time just brushing as we pass. Was that a faint smile on his lips. I reached the counter first and pray they wouldn't send me to unemployment limbo known as C section, in which people have been known to vanish and never be heard from again. I must have been tense because the clerk told me it wasn't necessary to engrave my name just sign it. Everybody's a comedian. As I left the counter I can see him but he can't see me. There were maybe ten in front of him.
For some people cruising is as casual as going out for the Sunday paper. I am not one of those people. For me it's high drama. I'd passed up too many opportunities in the past, which I later regretted. I was determined not to add to that list. I stationed myself by the door so that he couldn't leave without my seeing him. Seconds passed; minutes. I shift nervously. What could be taking so long? Oh no, maybe they sent him to C section. Suddenly there he is. He hasn't seen me yet. I go to the first door and hold it for him. He notices me. As I hold the second door I pause for a moment. His hand brushes across my ass as we exit. Our eyes meet. Sunlight splashes across his face. As it glances across his skin I notice the beautiful smooth olive luster, like finely crafted and polished wood. The catchlights swim in the deep brown pools of his eyes. I catch my breath. "Hi", I smile. He smiles back. "Hi". "Boy, what a line, I thought we'd never get out of there", I begin brilliantly. "Yeah what a line, something huh?", he matches my brilliance.
We begin the process of feeling each other out (as opposed to up)." My name is John." "I'm Jose." "You from around here?", I enquire. "Nah, I live on Grand St., over the bridge, where you from"? "I'm in Queens, near Forest Hills". "And they send you all the way to Brooklyn"? "I think they send you to the farthest one just so you won't get to like it to much", I try to be amusing. "Nah, they wouldn't do that". It quickley becomes apparent we won't be discussing Nietzsche over tea and crumpets this evening. Perhaps his talent lies in another direction. As we walk down the street we exchange work and personal backgrounds. I was surprised to find out he was in the navy. Just what I've always wanted: a sailor. "It was real interesting.I went all over the world. Remember that bombing in Beiruit? I was on one of the ships they sent in." I try open ended questions to test his response. "Is it true what they say about sailors?" "Yeah, well that depends on what they say, some of it is". I get bolder, "Can't have much of a sex life on board ship I guess." "Well you'd be surprised", is his only response.
As we walk aimlessly and talk we start to relax. Our hands brush and our shoulders bump, I'll touch his shoulder to make a point and he'll touch me. Our eyes meet often. We walk close together. I glance at his body admiring the outline of his firm ass. He keeps the zipper of his coat half way up and the top buttons on his shirt are still open. The wind thoughtfully flaps his shirt opened and closed to reveal small hard brown nipples standing out on his broad smooth chest. I resist the strong urge to take one of them in my mouth.
I can just make out the shape of his ribs and the gentle waves of muscle on his stomach. As a train roars by on the elevated tracks above us I pause to look in a store display. He follows me and stops just behind me and to my left. I can smell his sweet breath and feel it on my neck, and the warmth of his leg and hip pressed my thigh. We stay that way for endless seconds. I turn slowly. We face eacholP;)?His breathing is more obvious. His eyes flash. In that moment we understand eachother, our destination becomes clear. Now for the logistics.
As we resume walking I try to stear the conversation in a more productive direction. Burned out tenement shells stand against the orange glow of sunset as we turn the corner. The last shining spikes of fire peirce the ruins and shoot out through gaping holes where once were windows. With each step new sparks appear and vanish, flashing like broken glass. The wind blows our words down the street and into the gutter with the empty coffee cups and plastic wrappers. Darkness descends and the streetlights wink on. We walk together in silence for a while. "Starting to get cold. Hey, ya doing anything tonight, Jose"? "Yeah, I got a date with the President". "Think he'll mind if you're late?" "Nah, he'd rather go fuck Nancy anyway" We laugh out loud together, acknowledging our mutual predicament of endless supplies of unproductive time on our hands, and fear of an uncertain future.
We drive to my house in the silence of mutual understanding. He asks me to stop at a McDonalds for a bite to eat. The thought of doing so repulses me, but I pull in anyway. I decline to join him saying,"It's against my religion, I'll just wait here". "You Jewish"?, he says. "No - healthy, I like health food", I say, hoping to keep the explanation as short as possible. Through the plate glass I watch him bring up the rear (literally) as the line he's on slowly creeps along toward the robotic counterperson. The image of my lips on his firm round nipples keeps recurring. His order seems to take forever. My desire for him is becoming more insistent. But finally he emerges carrying his (the thought amuses me) two all beef patties and special sauce. Soon I'll be filling his order. At a stop light I ask, "Ever do it with a guy on ship"? The question makes him uncomfortable and he becomes evasive. "Oh well, ya know sometimes ya just gotta do something or ya go crazy. Sometimes it's a couple of weeks before ya see land. I hear a lot about that stuff going on but I don't see much. You can find it if ya know where to look though". I'll bet I know where to look. I feel the pants at my crotch expanding. I think he notices as he glances over. Suddenly I get angry at the driver whose been ahead of us for the last fifteen minutes. "C'mon shithead, let's go". I regret betrayQneke impatience as I jab the accelerator with my foot and jerk the wheel to the right to pass the coma victim. I glare at him as I shoot by. Jose offer me some fries and I take a few for public relations purposes.
"Well here we are", I say as I pull into the driveway, "the Taj Mahal. I think it's safe to go in, the tours have ended for the day. Sure hope the servents remembered to clean up". "Must be a bitch being rich", he says. "Murder". I hold the door for him as we enter and catch his clean sent as he goes by. We sit at the kitchen table, he moping up the the ketchup with the remaining fries and I munching on a rice and buckwheat dish I had in the fridge for just such an occasion. "Do you like that stuff. Looks kinda tasteless", he offers. Determined to do an end run around that conversation I counter with, "Feel like some TV? C'mon, let's see what's on". He grabs my arm as I get up and I sit back down. He pulls a joint from his pocket holds it in front of his face, suddenly very serious and asks, "Wanna toke"? My focus shifts between the joint and his eyes. I notice his long curved lashes for the first time as his eyes are fixed on mine and debate with myself whether to take up his offer. Normally I avoid drugs of any kind but a chance to fulfill a fantasy doesn't come along very often and, I decide, this time caution takes a back seat to passion. "Sure let's go in here." He follows me to the couch.
I turn on the TV. Jose has already lighted the joint. As I sit on the opposite end of the couch watching him put it to his lips I can feel the excitement and anticipation start to build. He inhales deeply, strains to keep from coughing and offers the joint to me as the twisted ropes of smoke curl toward the ceiling. Almost before the smoke hits my lungs they are on fire. My head is spinning and my heart starts pounding in my chest while I strain to hold it in. I hand back the lethal cigarette with tears in my eyes the steam explodes from my lungs in coughing spasms. Jose is amused. He smiles the knowing smile of an expert acknowledging the foibles of a novice. Slowly he gets up, walks over, sits down next to me and says "I'll show you how it's done". He watches me steadily for a moment, then slowly, deliberately takes a long deep toke, leans over me and presses his lips to mine. I am helpless to resist. My mouth opens and the hot passion of his lungs erupts into mine. My heart is racing. Our lips glide past oneanother and my tounge finds his. I put my right hand behind his head and my left on his ass. I pull him closer and feel his dick moving, pressing hard against me through his jeans.
We race to remove our clothes. I watch his uncut hardon pop out as he removes his briefs. He wins the race and helps me come in a close second. Quickly we are in eachothers arms pressed closely together kissing deeply. I want all of him all at once and can't decide where to start. My lips slide over his neck. As my hand slowly closes over his full dick he sighs. I take his tight almost hairless balls in my mouth and release them several times. My tounge slides up and down his thick shaft. I want badly to take it in my mouth but resist. He arches his back and moans lightly. I feel the strength of his hard dick as my fingers close around it and lightly stroke it. I lean back and watch his solid smooth powerful body respond. My lips close delicately around his hard firm nipple and touch it with my tounge as my fingers twist and massage the other one. "AAHHHHH" he responds, "MMMMMMMMMM" and starts running his fingers through my hair. I work on the other one as I lay on top of him feeling his dick pressing and rubbing against my belly. My hand travels over his body savoring the smoothness and tightness of his skin beneath my fingers.
He suddenly gets up and pushes me down on the bed. He straddles me on his knees and starts slowly stroking himself. I know what he wants. I want him inside me. I want him to fuck me, bad. I reach over to the drawer and get a rubber, rip open the package (hoping I hadn't damaged the contents in my haste) and handed it to him. He pauses, looks at it, frowns but with my assistance puts it on. I am more excited as I watch it unroll slowly on his rock hard shaft that stands out straight on his flat belly like a nail on a board. I get the cream from the drawer and hand it to him. He knows what to do. As we kneel facing eachother he puts the lube on his finger, touches it to my asshole and starts to massage it slowly and his finger slips in. I inhale sharply. I want him inside me desperately. I take his dick in my hand, move closer and rub it against my asshole. He pushes me down again, almost roughly. I raise my legs and put them on his shoulders. He puts some lube on his sheathed cock, presses it against my hole and gives a little shove. I gasp from the pain, put my hands on his hips and ask him to withdraw. I breath deeply for a few moments. He waits, not sure what to do. "Slow", I say, "OK"? We try again. He applies gentle firm pressure this time. Slowly the head of his dick enters. "You OK"?, he asks. "Yeah, you got it". He pushes and I watch his thick brown cock slide completely into me until the bush of his curly pubic hair is pressed against my balls.
The first few strokes are uncomfortable and I ask him to go slow but gradually I relax and he moves more freely. I take his hand and put it on my nipple. As he starts to rub, press and twist my tit, through half closed eyes I look into his, put my hands on his ass and guide him in and out. He understands what I want and starts shoving harder and deeper still watching my eyes for response. I watch the muscles on his legs and stomach ripple and move, and his balls swing with each plunge. The cream is lying next to me. On an impulse I put some on my middle finger and without warning press it up into his asshole. Judging by the look of surprise and his frantic pleading expression on his face no-one had ever done this to him before. He starts to protest but doesn't and begins pumping harder, firmer, more deliberately. At the same time my finger probes the soft inside of his asshole. I love watching his cock plunge in and out, his firm washboard belly pounding against my hips. "OOOOO, yeah, that's nice, yeah, you're doing real good Jose, ahhhhhhh", I encourage him. To break the tempo I urge him to slow down, but he won't. He becomes wild. His strokes become quicker and shorter. His eyes glaze, his tounge sticks out and he starts breathing in rasps, making a sound from his throat with each quick thrust, "UH, UH, UH". "You like when I stick my finger in your asshole"?, I move my finger for emphasis. He responds with a grunt and more frantic movements, then stops fucking for a moment and presses his ass down on my finger. He moans when I finger fuck him. Suddenly I feel his ass tighten and he starts fucking with shorter quicker strokes and louder more desperate groans. I stroke my dick to match his rhythmn and feel the heat beginning to rise. His asshole closes around my finger in spasms and I plunge it in deeper. He lets out three or four loud gasps, "AH, AH, AH, AH". I grab Joses ass tightly and pull him into me as he watches my cum start spilling out over my belly and chest. I see only his hard smooth dark body pressed against mine as I gasp for air.
He withdraws slowly and we fall together exhausted. After cleanup operations we lay in eachothers arms, motionless, for many minutes, neither of us wanting to move. I turn to him, kiss his forhead and draw my fingers lightly across his smooth olive cheek, which in the dim light looks almost black. He runs his fingers through my hair and gently kisses me on the lips. I shiver. Suddenly I'm cold. I pull the blankets up to our chins and we close our eyes. Good night sweet prince, wherever you are.
