Monday, July 18, 2011

Smutty Excerpt From "The Rosas of Spanish Harlem"

The beach was practically empty when I climbed the steps up to the boardwalk from the street side of Brighton Beach. In the distance, to my right, Coney Island beckoned but I preferred the quieter end of things.

It was early morning, Thursday, July 7, 1977. Even the shop owners hadn’t opened up yet. I suppose I could have walked under the boardwalk but I usually left that as a treat for the end of the day, after spending hours baking in the sun’s rays. It was always much cooler walking beneath the elevated walkway. In a way, it was mysterious, foreboding and exciting all at the same time, what with all the people walking overhead, knocking sand on top of you, and the litter strewn about which frequently included used, cum-filled condoms.

Sometimes, if I was lucky, a guy would stand still long enough for me to look up the inside of his shorts. If I was really lucky, he’d have no underwear on. Not that they were aware, mind you. It was just one of those happy accidents where you happened to be at the right place, at the right time. In fact, if any of them knew about the pervy boy ogling their stuff they’d probably chase after me and beat me to a pulp. Brooklyn men weren’t exactly known for being gay-friendly; at least, not in public.

Despite the dangers, the thought of feasting my young horny eyes on a big pair of balls and a thick, meaty cock made me feel even hornier than I already was. Still, I pushed the thoughts away to take in the last few moments of silence.

Even the seagulls seemed hesitant to screech and squawk.

The only other people around were the city workers and the dirty old men -- most of them Eastern European immigrants -- who sat on the benches all day, facing the ocean to ogle whatever it was that caught their fancy. Binoculars were usually strapped around their necks.

I crossed the boardwalk to the beach side and made my way down the stairs and onto the sand, gripping the metal railing as I went. To my right were public restrooms. A big, beefy black janitor whistled, glancing from side to side as he unlocked the men’s room then disappeared inside with a metal bucket on wheels and a large mop with a dirty head.

As I trudged along the beach, sand between the bottom of my my feet and the flip-flops I wore, I enjoyed the sea breeze on my skin. Between that and the salty air, I relaxed enough to let the fight I’d had with my mom, earlier that morning, slowly seep away.

A part of me felt bad, but every summer it was the same. She expected me to get dressed and go with her to the factory where she worked. She’d say it would be good for me, that it would teach me discipline and fill me with pride at earning my own money.

I thought it was a load of bull. It would just turn me into yet one more drone shuffling off to do something he didn’t like and, eventually, give up on any dreams I might have had.

This particular morning she’d been more insistent than usual. She wanted to introduce me to the new foreman. She had the feeling he and I would get along famously. She’d gone on, adding that she was sure he’d want to give me a job; one that would allow me to earn enough to help around the house -- even if it was just a little, as my sister did -- and still save for my first year of college in the fall.

It’s not that I didn’t want to help. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful. I know how hard mom worked. I’d see it on her face when she came home late at night only to have a quick, small dinner, then go to bed and wake up to do it all over again the next day.

My sister had been working summers for nearly six years now, in between Spring and Fall semesters. She was saving up to get her own apartment and, I have to admit, it would have been nice to have money of my own rather than depend on mom but, to me, summer was a time to go off and explore. It was a time for adventure.

This particular summer, especially, meant more than any other. It was going to be special, perhaps even magical. Though nothing had happened in the two weeks since I’d been out of school, that hardly mattered. I still had two long months ahead of me and they beckoned with promise. I knew deep in my heart I needed to remain open to any opportunity.

Plus it was the last summer where I could still consider myself to be a kid instead of a teenager who’d just turned the wonderfully legal age of 18.

This would be the summer I’d stop being a boy and become a man. I’d lose my virginity, suck my first cock, and get fucked. Maybe I’d even get to fuck!

But that wasn’t where my fantasies led me.

In my wildest fantasies I always saw myself as being taken. Used. At times, even abused and sometimes taking on more than one cock. I wanted, no…yearned…to be mounted, penetrated and deeply fucked by a huge cock, feeling pubic hair against my smooth ass. I wanted to feel my jaw stretched to capacity as I looked up into the eyes of the man who would claim me as his boy; my daddy, my lover, my owner. I wanted to be possessed, body, mind and soul.

Not that my deepest desire mattered. I was too scared to find a man. Even if I managed to find the courage to go looking for one, I wouldn’t even know where to look. Not to mention that I was fairly sure no one would find me attractive.

I was too short for one thing; 5 feet, even. My hair was thick, blond and hung just below my shoulders. Mom always said it made me look like a girl. She was always after me to get it cut, which was the biggest reason why I went out of my way to leave it alone and let it fly loose.

The fact that I was slim and smooth didn’t help. Nor did my pixie-like face and puffy red lips. I wasn’t muscular like other boys my age and I’d always been the last one to be picked at any school sport. I might as well have been a flat-chested, teenage girl since the only thing that made me male, by definition, was a dick. And even that wasn’t very big. I was only about four and a half inches long. I liked to think that the doctor botched up my circumcision and stolen several inches from me.

Strangely enough, as a little boy, my sister -- who was three years older -- would dress me up in her clothes and put makeup on my face. She’d hand me a mirror and I’d just stare at my reflection, mesmerized by the pretty girl looking out at me. Then we’d have imaginary tea parties and talk about our dad who ran off and disappeared when I was barely a year old.

In a way, it was almost as if my sister saw something in me that I didn’t. Something I was afraid of -- or perhaps too young -- to see for myself or acknowledge. I only knew that I liked boys and wanted one desperately.

The rest, I tried my best to hide. Bad enough I wanted to be with another male.

Overhead, a rogue seagull screeched for food and hovered, daring to break the silence. It pulled me out of my reverie and, with a sigh, I buried all thoughts of men, sex, and my so far short past.

I settled on a spot and shrugged the oversized canvas bag from my shoulder. Pulling out an old, cum-stained sheet from my twin bed, I shook it out. It fluttered in the breeze, flapping before finally falling to the sand, where I anchored it with a flip flop at either corner, by my feet. Then I placed the bag at the top corner, to my right, and pulled out the thermos filled with grape soda. I propped it in the other corner, burying it a little in the sand.

Satisfied, I pulled out my towel and made a pillow out of it as the surf began to churn a bit more urgently. Pulling off my blood-red tank top, I then undid the top button of my cut-off jean shorts and let them fall to my ankles.

I imagined one or two of the old geezers on the boardwalk, sitting on their bench, binoculars glued to their eyes and trained on my slim, lithe body as they licked their sandpapery, wrinkled lips.

Eat your hearts out, I thought and bent over dramatically to step out of my shorts. Then I stood still a moment, hands on hips, wearing a white bathing suit that covered slightly less than a briefs and showed practically everything; especially when wet.

With a nasty, playful glee at whom -- if anyone -- was watching me, I plopped down on the sheet and proceeded to apply baby oil on every inch of exposed flesh. Then I leaned on one elbow and, after fiddling with my transistor radio -- using only my fingertips to avoid getting too much oil on the dials -- I found the AM music station I liked, laid down and closed my eyes with great satisfaction.

I was soon asleep under the hot, prickly sun.


Voices carried on the wind. A woman giggling. Soft whispers. A man’s laughing. Something about them made me stir. I could tell they were young but still a little older than me.

“No, papi. Stop it. I already told you. Not here.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. Who’s gonna see?” The man was cajoling, somewhat syrupy. He definitely wanted something.

Roll your bod! Roll your bod! This from the radio, which was fading. The 9-volt battery was probably dying.

I came awake and slowly rolled over, realizing I’d probably been asleep longer than I should have been. Tomorrow I’d have a real nice sunburn.

I looked up slowly, discretely. A young Puerto Rican couple lay on a blanket directly before me, just mere feet away.

The woman was a typical latina; big boobs, wide hips, a sensual mouth. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her black wavy hair kept getting blown in her face. She’d reach for it and pull it from her mouth.

The man was about 24 and his skin was the color of caramel. His body was lean, toned, and perfectly smooth. His hair was black, and he wore it tight to his scalp. I got the impression he was quite a charmer. Otherwise how else could he get away with calling her babe or mami?

There was something about the wind that, although I could tell they were doing their best to keep their voices low, the whispers carried towards me.

I propped my chin on folded arms and closed my eyes to slits so it would appear as if I were still sleeping. It helped that my hair was loose and wind-tossed, covering half my face.

The young man’s fingers tugged at the side of the tiny, triangular patch of cloth covering his girlfriend’s pussy.

“Angel, no! Stop it, papi!”

She slapped his hand but I could tell she was just as aroused as he was. I could sense that all he had to do was push a little harder and he’d soon get what he wanted.

Pulse racing, my small cock now fully erect, I ground into the sand to readjust myself and continued watching them.

Angel succeeded in pulling the material of her bathing suit to one side and exposed her shaved pussy. I gulped and felt my Adam’s apple bobbing up and down repeatedly. I felt suddenly and unexplicably thirsty.

“Papi, no. Please,” She sighed with a hiss then moaned as Angel inserted his fingers in her pussy. A small sound escaped my throat as if I could feel what he was doing to her. He cast a glance in my direction and I froze. After a moment, satisfied they weren’t being watched, Angel turned his attention back to the girl laying on her side before him.

She parted her lips and threw her head back, eyes closed. Angel chuckled. There was something lewd, sexy and seductive about it.

I watched him wriggle his fingers inside her, pumping them in and out a few times before pulling out completely and sucking on them. Then he shoved them in her mouth and brought them back down between her legs. He continued finger-fucking her.

“You’re so fucking wet!” Angel whispered into the wind.

“Ah! An– Angel. You’re such a pig!” Although she complained she did nothing to stop him. “Don’t you ever get enough?”

In response, Angel pulled his fingers out of her pussy then reached for the waistband of his black Speedos. He whipped out a large, fat uncut cock that looked very wet. My eyes bugged out at the sight of him casually stroking the thick, meaty shaft out in the open.

I briefly wondered if any of the old buggers on the benches could see and suddenly realized why they had those binoculars. For unexpected moments like this.

Mira, mami,” Angel said. She glanced down at his cock and chewed her lower lip. “See what you do to me?”

Then he pulled the foreskin back, exposing the head. He looked even wetter as he rubbed the tip up and down her fleshy folds. She moaned. Then, slowly, Angel slipped his cock inside her, filling her completely, one glorious inch at a time.

Angel had stopped glancing around to see if anyone might be looking. Instead, he worked the entire length of his cock inside the woman’s pussy and they started to kiss.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

“Shhh! It’s okay, baby. No one’s looking. Besides, there’s only a few people nearby.”

“What about that girl?”

I blushed at the thought she might be talking about me.

“That girl. Down there.” She raised her leg slightly and pointed towards me with her toes. I remained perfectly still, hair in my face. I still closed my eyes, just in case, and was grateful I’d rolled over onto my stomach when I did. I might have a small dick but an erection is an erection and I’d have given myself away. Not to mention that I probably wouldn’t be able to see what was happening as well as I was now.

“Honey, she’s sunning herself topless. You think she’s gonna care if we’re fucking out in the open?”

Seconds later I heard slurping noises. I dared to open my eyes and looked up to see them kissing. Their hips gently rocked to and fro, barely perceptible, but just enough to cause enough friction to make them sigh and gasp.

Unable to believe what was happening before me, my cock was drooling copiously. I could feel it oozing pre-cum as if it were a small faucet with a leak.

I angled my body, trying to get a better view as he placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer to him.

Soon, she was moving back and forth, more quickly than he was. I could see a bit more of the underside of his shaft; it looked slick and wet from sweat and pussy juice.

My heart was pumping in my head and my dick was throbbing as I continued to watch. I longed to crawl on my hands and knees between their legs and lick them both but I fought the urge.

A bit more brazen now that he was lost in the excitement, Angel rolled the girl over, moving with her without pulling out. Now on her back, she spread her legs slightly and placed her hands near his ass.

Discretely, he thrust in and out of her. His moves would’ve been easy to miss if you weren’t looking for them. But I could tell. His ass cheeks dimpled as he ground into her; I could see the hollows even through his bathing suit.

As I watched them fuck, I pressed my own erection into the sand, moving my hips from side to side. I was close.

The girl suddenly gave a single, soft moan and her entire body shuddered. Seconds later, Angel sighed and I followed with a load of my own.

My heart was in my throat and, although I’d just cum, I was now hornier than ever. My pulse raced and hormones raged. What with having just watched the couple before me, the heat of the sun, and the sound of the surf, I could barely control myself. In that moment I understood how someone might become so frantic with desire they’d pounce on the first person they saw without thought or regard to consequence.

Fuck first, ask questions later. That pretty much summed up what I was feeling.

At that moment, even though I didn’t like girls, I’d have gladly eaten her pussy just to get a taste of him. Of course, I would have preferred to suck him and sample the juices from his foreskin but there was no chance of that happening no matter how much I wanted it.

Frustrated, I rolled over, sat up, and raced into the ocean water. It was warm but not so warm it wasn’t refreshing.

I imagined myself as a red hot poker, glowing brilliantly, while steam rose the moment I submerged myself. My breathing slowed and a moment later, I burst through the surface and bobbed in the water as my breathing went back to normal.

Good God! I’ve just got to get my hands on some dick! Please. I’m so fucking horny!

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw movement. I glanced towards the beach and saw Angel stand. Even from that distance, I could see him reach inside the pouch of his suit and readjust himself.

He swaggered as he walked towards the ocean and, even though he was now soft, I could see the outline of his cock as he drew near. His balls looked to be huge, round and smooshed up against either side of the now soft piece of meat.

Obsessed with Angel, his cock, and the image of him fucking, I decided to leave the beach. I had to get off and masturbating alone wouldn’t do. I simply had to find cock! But where? How? It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught you in school. Then it hit me.

I know. I’ll go under the boardwalk.

With all those used condoms I kept finding I was bound to run into someone horny enough and didn’t care whether he got a blowjob from a boy or a girl. But would there be anybody there at this hour, cruising around and looking for trouble? I sure hoped so.

Frustrated and wet from the quick dip, I clambered out of the water, went back to my spot and packed up my stuff.

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