Porno Story

I wrote this at the Lambda Emerging Writers Retreat at UCLA.

 

 

 

Without his underwear the stairs were steeper.  The climb would burn
the soles of his feet, and if he slipped he’d skin his ass.  But if no
one saw him what difference would it make? All he needed to do
was get to the top. The men might wonder why he left his underwear
elsewhere, but he knew how to make them think about something else.
His dick was bigger than most and fat.

By the time he got to the top he’d have to catch his breath and his
dick wouldn’t be hard. But if he thought about Al Parker he’d get hard,
but then if someone touched him he knew he’d start to drip.  He never could
stop it from oozing even just a tiny bit.  Of course he could dab it
with his fingers and eat it, but they’d see him do it.  Once he tried
to hide it in his foreskin but that didn’t keep it in for long.

It’s all about presentation.  He wanted to be liked.  He’d been lonely
since Rafael died.  Would that show on his face? Even if his dick was
sticking straight up as it liked to do?  He tried bending it down once
and taped it to his waist, but that never lasted because when his dick
went soft it sagged like a dead trout and started to hurt.  If he had a minute or two to get in the right frame of mind, could strike up a conversation with William, the lanky redhead, or Jack the former quarterback.

Jack just lost his lover to AIDS, so he might not want to start up again.  He
could ask him out for coffee and start slow. But maybe he wasn’t ready
either. Rafael had been so good to him and loved him without
boundaries.  He’d be hard to replace.  With Rafael the world was

Magic and dust motes were faerie dust. That would be hard to replace even if
William or Jack was into fist fucking.

He got sympathy and tons of hugs after Rafael passed, but the only man
who wanted to date him was Jason with a reputation for quick, failed
relationships.  He didn’t want to be another notch on someone’s worn out
belt. This time if he was going to fall in love it had to be a man with
his shit together and a smile every morning. Their sex would be hot and
close to making love, at least at first.  If the man could keep his
dick and a relationship up at the same time, he could be the next
Rafael.

The sun was setting, so he should get started.  All he needed was to
get to the top before it got so dark when no one could see him.  The thought
of sliding his hand up William’s butt sent blood surging to his dick.
He mounted the first steep step.  “Ouch,” How did that stone get there?

The next step was easier, and his dick bobbed as he went. Another steep
step and his dick as losing blood to keep his legs supplied with
oxygen.  He heard the music at the top of the stairs.

But what if Al Parker was a fist fucker?  Hadn’t he done that in the
Other Side of Aspen? By the fourth step is dick was hard again and
bobbing when he moved. Sweat from his forehead was falling on his dick.
He tried brushing it off, but once there he wrapped his hand around his
hardness.  A soft wind blew down the stairs and cooled the sweat on his
face and shoulders.  It teased the hair in his pits.

That’s right! Al Parker was fisting and it was snowing outside and the
fireplace was roaring. Each man was hard, and they all had monster
dicks, but they were porno stars. His dick went limp.

Another step and what if Jack wanted to grease up his hand and send him
to Heaven?   He could lie back, take a couple deep breaths and try to
relax enough for him to get past his wrist.  He was oozing. With that
and sweat his hand was slick. He began moving it slowly.  First up to

the head of his dick. That’s when he liked to use one finger and rub it
around the tip.  That always got him harder. He pulled his hand back
down to the base and let his knuckles scrunch around in his pubes.  He
felt muscles in his crotch relax, but the step was cold hard stone.

He brought his hand back up slowly, and when he looked down at veins on his prick

mapped the underside with blue Interstates. He pulled it up and down
again and stumbled on the sixth step.  The stairs smelled of dust and
old tennis shoes, and his mind was commuting between moving his feet
and sensing his dick’s ecstasy.  He righted himself, and this time very
slowly coiled his fingers around his penis and pulled them slowly up.
He sensed the electricity of anticipation, the swelling of the
reservoir and the heat of possible explosions.  Could he contain it?

He thought of Stonewall’s funeral, the best dog in the world.  How he
dug the grave in the backyard with a new shovel with a brass handle.
How he gently put the brown curly haired body on the fresh black dirt
and tossed in his worn leather collar before throwing in the first
handful of soil.

He sat on the seventh step and rested on his elbows letting his mind
empty.  He lovingly stroked himself back to floating on a slow moving
river.  His hand had a mind of its own making love to his member.

It felt so good there was no reason to stop.  The distant howling of a dog framed him, and without intending he shot wads to his shoulder.

About Chuck

Ivy education, long-time San Franciscan with two dogs and two homes. Have traveled most of the world and spend my days writing.

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One Response to Porno Story

  1. Andy August 23, 2011 at 3:10 pm #

    Great story, Chuck!! Even better read aloud. 🙂

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