~ ~ ~
…dark streets flip by…
Dealt like cards.
Bringing me players.
I don't like their noise, dragging the streets in..
So I watch.
I drive and watch.
It's bad, what I see…but, better, better than the noise.
…I wish I could sleep…
~ ~ ~
I take care of my cab. More than the other cabbies.
It's clean, real clean. Like my conscience.
Well so far as actions
There's this kid, a street kid. He's a hustler, now.
I watch him.
…I think about touching him…
~ ~ ~
I work anywhere in the City…anytime, anywhere.
Not like the other Cabbies.
But I like the night.
And I like where he works.
…he's not like the other boys.
I'm going to touch him. I know that, now.
~ ~ ~
Hunching up the sidewalk…my chill hands in my pockets, shoulders to my ears, for the wind…
"Hey," I greet.
He's smiling at me. His hustler clothes showing skin…there…under his open jacket…
…stray dark hairs…
…anchoring his navel…
…sharp muscles on either side, luring beneath his waistband…
He's telling me…what?
Talk to…that guy, with the hat. OK.
He parts from the other kids and waits for me, up the sidewalk, a ways.
His pimp is…insulting.
I want to hit him, just from the look on his face, the way he holds his head. The smooth voice, the dirty looks, the leer around his gaunt cheeks and sharp nose.
He doesn't know what the kid 'n I'll do…doesn't know how right it will be.
Uh, he won't take my money…
"What?" I say.
"Are you a cop?" he asks again, keeping his hands in his pockets, away from my money, scanning up and down the street for anything.
"What makes you think I'm a cop?"
"You don't look cool, Man. I'm just sayin', you look…like I need to ask you," he changes his tack at the end.
I still get ticked.
"What is it?" I sneer. "The bald head? Cuz if so, you better turn away a lot of mutherfuckn' Yuppies who wax their fuckn' heads, or I'll come back and show you how much I'm not a cop."
Hands out, antsy dancing on his feet, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Chief! S'OK, OK? I gotta be safe, you know, Man?" Looking away from his snatching hand, he grabs my cash and I turn and stride.
I'm going up the block, angry.
But the kid is there, smiling, shining. Oh, no, I'm not angry.
I'm watching him, again.
"Come over here, I've got a room for us," he beckons me.
I offer my hand.
He, standing there, all street…all hustler-boy…in sliced-and-frayed jeans…crimson cotton V-neck, too-small…he looks at my offering for a second, then takes it with a grin.
Even then, his lips are full.
I will do anything to make him do that, even once more.
~ ~ ~
…up the grimy staircase…
…his hand clutching mine…
I am touching him
~ ~ ~
Standing before me, door closed behind us, he's breath-close…
…telling me, "The rules are: no rough stuff and no kissing",
and then he begins a mantra, "So, what do you want? How do you want it? Hm?
I ask, "Why no kissing?"
Clipped reply, "It makes it personal."
In front of me, he tips his graceful head to look down at me,
and he is not, ever, still…
leading with his hips…lazily shifting from foot to foot,
fingertips pressing through my pants, on and around my hard dick…
his face slow-dances before mine.
Dark loose curls…
Masters formed the cheeks, the planes…but soft, warm.
I look up to catch his eyes.
Eyebrows peak with that, then…a smile, as his hands learn my belt-buckle.
I'm helpless. I can say no more to him.
No, I can: "What is your name?" Because he is mine.
"'Easy'. Just ask for, 'Easy'."
I frown, "That's not a name."
He's got my pants open and has tugged them, just a bit, off my hips. Before he can kneel down, I say,
"No," suddenly, and I take a half-step back.
He looks up, still amused.
"I want you." I touched fingertips to his shoulder.
Rising to full height and shedding his jacket, he says, "OK, Mister, it's your dime, but you get me by the quarter-hour." He strips off the T-shirt…rippling his chest, his arms.
When he gets to removing his boxer briefs, I suck air through my teeth…
…and roll back my head on my neck, to regain balance.
Ash green doe-eyes looking up at me, through black-fur lashes, over his sly grin…he approaches me now. He knows how he looks.
He's back, attending to my clothes…
my pants and undershorts he pulls down,
much…more than before,
…I startle, like a boy, like a man taken in a dream.
I tuck my head to the side, flat toward one shoulder, my mouth slightly open, looking at him from the corners of my eyes.
I feel unreal.
I feel shy.
My shirt is unbuttoned and off. I glance back. He's got the bed covers out of the way and has pushed me lightly to sit back on the bed. My shoes and clothes...removed.
Now I'm like him.
Leaning over to bring his face to mine, his knuckles rest on either side of me, on the bed. I bring my hands to his upper-arms and wrap them…
I close my eyes, feeling my touching him, so hard. His soft chuckle, now, into my ear…such warmth…"What do you want me to do?"
I open my eyes, starkly.
"I want to eat your ass out."
"Uh, hang on," and in a minute he returns from a rinse in the shower, comes out drying off.
"Lie down," I tell him. He bunches up the towel to toss it into a corner, obeying.
He's already placed the stuff by the bed and I sheath us both up.
I look at his sprawl. Belly-down, his head is turned toward me…eyes of veined-agate, heating me.
I hold my palms atop his ankles so warm, still damp, and glide up softly, tickling, a quarter-inch above the grain of his legs' hair, to his ass. I lean forward…
…my pale fingers
touching his honeyed flesh…
…lifting his delicious hips, bringing him up and open.
He is perched for me. My arms enfold him.
Descending to my rose, I close my eyes and just breathe…
Then I pull one firm, long lick, dragging the soft stubbles of my rough tongue. He sucks in breath…
My wide-opened mouth closes around his hole and just sucks in…oh, he's made the best noise.
Still sucking…I flick. He's moving. Flick, again. He stifles a small gasp.
Oh, I'm so glad. I knew it!
…up, then down…
Drilling twirl...right, then left…right…left…I feel him digging his toenails into the sides of my knees.
I close my eyes…
If I were to watch him like this, I wouldn't know how to stop.
My lips smack as I release, and I delve my tongue in, hard and pointed. I'm as good as fucking him now, my tongue…wiggling, probing, back and forth, in and out. Slipping out for more flutter and then driving back in, for more fucking.
He's whimpering. Like he's mine.
I work him minutes and minutes.
Work him, until he begins to shape a sound, under his breath, "…please…"
I can barely hear it, but...a jolt goes through me, charging my tongue...
"Oh, god, please!" he sobs aloud now.
I move slowly…away…then dip down again for a final lick, and his whole body shudders.
I promise him, "I'm going to fuck you now."
"Yes, yes…just…please," he's whispering with soft panting sounds,
fingers spasmed around hanks of bed sheet.
I spread the slick over my cock…around, and in, his sweet, sweet asshole.
I wipe my fingers on the sheet and bite one ass-cheek, then bite harder, until he cries out.
I line up and begin a slow press.
He's…not…so very tight…he does this every day…OH! There! He's clenched
around me and I almost stop. I do slow down, though.
I'm gasping. My eyes are barely open, from the drug of his sex.
Now I have entered him completely, just as he exhales a gust of breath, and I slump over him to grab my hands over his fists.
I gyrate my hips. Slow…real slow.
His sounds! My jaw to his back…
…just his sounds would be enough.
No words, just brief cries, broken...
When I find his sweet-spot and keep hitting it, I bite his shoulder, near his neck, and suck. Hard. He's very mine.
He's loud now. The noise he gives me!
Oh! a tiny shriek!
I grin so happy…
…while I change up, now...
…I lick his salty skin…I kiss his tender neck…cycle down, give him rest, cool him…run my hands over his body…
…then slowly find my speed again, hitting his spot again…
…bring up his loudness, again.
I make…his noise.
When I start to slow again, he senses my pattern…
and screams out at me,
…jump to overdrive, digging deep
until he's almost thrashing. He is thrashing. I grip him, digging in him.
"Mister!" he whines as he thrashes.
I work one hand under to take his cock. Within one thrust, I'm jerking his cock to my rhythm.
His sounds! You'd think I was beating him.
"I'm…ngh...I'm…", his cheek to the sheet, a line of spittle dances on the shaking bed.
"Do it!" I command.
"AGHHHHH…Ahhhhh…!" he sings.
He clenches around me so hard, so fast, again and again, and,
I pump into him!
Both of us singing…
Every bit of me shoved in...
We are so…so…loud!
~ ~ ~
We're pancaked to the bed. No moving, just gasping…
…just little moans.
He lifts his head a bit. Looks back, and up, at me, my head on his shoulder-blade.
"Jesus, Mister, I should be paying you for that."
He smiles, weakly.
Hoisting my cheek to his shoulder, I adore his complicated green eyes…
…as I reach my free hand to his face…
…I stroke his cheek…his lush lips, as their flush fades before my eyes…click my nails against his teeth…make him giggle a little.
"Come with me," I breathe at him.
Eyes shift to the side, then back, his brows frowning…he knows what's up.
Playing dumb, standard grin, "Uh, what do you mean?"
"Come with me,
away from here,
He sees it clear, and he's doing stock-response…this must happen a lot.
He's also moving, using his hand to slowly pull me from his butt, and roll me onto my side.
"Uh, no. I don't do that. Thanks, though," and he begins to dress.
I rise up and grab a wrist. He stops and turns,
to look at my hand on him,
then at me…
…a cold look.
"Let go," he adds. Firm.
Yeah, this has happened before.
I let go,
like I was burned.
Thank god, he's stopped that cold look.
I didn't like that coldness. I don't want that again.
Clenching his abdomen tight, he pulls his crimson shirt over his head, "So…you gotta get up, too…cuz the room costs…too," he explains. Now, he's dressed except for the shoes he's stepping into.
I tell him, "Go on ahead."
Flipping his head to the side with a shrug, "It's your money." He makes for the door.
"Hey!" I call.
He stops, to look.
"I'll come again. Until you want to go."
He begins a standard grin, but it falters to unease. He seems off-balance…because I am so certain.
One nod of my head, "It's our destiny."
He stares…instead of laughs.
I stare too, slightly purse my lips, repeat, "What's your name?"
He faintly cocks his head…and cases me out, dropping one shoulder toward the hip on which he rests.
He decides…during the combing…by his fingers…the dragging of the hair from his eyes…
Oh, yes. He'll share himself with me…
Jutting his chin out…"Clark."
"Lex," the corners of my mouth curve up a bit.
He blinks, like a photographic lens, then turns and strides out,
to the cold,
to the street,
to the others.
I rise, to find my own bed, finally to sleep.
~ Copyright (Story and Characterizations, not original Characters) by Rose etta, 1-24-05