Summer Shorts 2 Page 4

  Sven smiles, coos something comforting. Jimmy feels trepidation, but he doesn’t want to embarrass Roger or make a big scene. Sven’s accent makes the things he says hard to understand. His hands are on Jimmy’s shoulders. Jimmy allows himself to be shepherded down the hall, away from the others.

  The room is large, dark, with a queen-size bed, neatly made.

  Sven flips on a bedside lamp and invites Jimmy to sit on the bed. Jimmy sits carefully, his back straight. He rubs his hands on his thighs. He sees a desk and chest of drawers. Heavy curtains on one wall. A large mirror hangs on the opposite wall.

  “Do you want a book?” Sven asks.

  “A book?” Jimmy looks at him curiously. “Like, to read?”

  Sven smiles. Retrieves two magazines from one of his desk drawers. One is Hustler, a magazine Jimmy knows well enough. The other features bare-chested men in tight jeans on its cover. Jimmy looks curiously at the magazine with the men. He’s never seen a gay pornographic magazine.

  He is curious about the gay magazine, but Jimmy doesn’t feel bold enough to ask for it. Realizing that he is lingering, Jimmy says: “Hustler.”

  Sven seems unsatisfied with this answer. He flips opens the gay magazine. Offers Jimmy a peek inside. Jimmy glances at a picture of a man with a mustache, his lips stretched around a thick cock. Jimmy snorts. Men having sex with other men looks too unnatural to him. He can’t look at it. Can’t read that book. As much as he wants to feel his own cock in Sven’s mouth, he’s not sure he wants to see it.

  “Hustler,” Jimmy says, unable to keep mild irritation from his voice, a knee jerk reaction.

  Sven chuckles, gives Jimmy the magazine he requested. Jimmy dutifully flips through its pages. He has a hard time focusing on the pictures. Doesn’t know exactly what he should do next. He’s only ever done this once before.

  Sven kneels in front of Jimmy.

  Jimmy can feel his cock stir. His mouth is a desert. Sven coos softly. Puts one hand on Jimmy’s hip, uses the other to rub the front of Jimmy’s pants. Jimmy concentrates on the pictures, feels his breathing go shallow. His cock rise. When Sven unbuttons Jimmy’s pants and lowers his fly, Jimmy wordlessly sets the magazine aside. He puts his hands on the bed and raises his hips. It’s a small thing, but he realizes that by raising his hips, he is an active participant in the act. He feels a flutter of excitement in his chest. As his pants go down, the cool air in the room makes gooseflesh on his thighs. He feels the texture of the bedspread on his bare ass. His cock proudly stands, the one part of his body with absolutely no shame. It’s a swaying pole in a small unkempt bush of curly brown hair. Jimmy opens his knees and inches his hips forward. His pants are at his ankles. He sees something wet welling up on the head of his dick.

  Sven gently wraps his hand around Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy exhales noiselessly. As the wind leaves his body, Jimmy glances up and sees Roger standing at the bedroom door.

  Jimmy is horrified. He gasps, his body tightens.

  Sven spins his head to the door.

  “Roger—,” Sven says. He can’t hide his irritation.

  Sven crosses the room quickly. Standing at the door, he puts his body between Roger and the bed. Jimmy reaches for his pants, grateful that Sven is blocking Rogers’s view. He wonders if Roger will tease him, expose him to the other boys. Leaning over, Jimmy half-heartedly pulls his pants up to his knees. His cock is still hard, swaying wildly. It bobs against his abdomen, knocks into his forearm, leaving a little wet spot.

  The conversation at the door is muted, but Sven seems to be moving it quickly toward closure.

  Jimmy decides getting dressed makes little sense. He sits, his cock swaying in front of him. He is unsure what to do with his hands. He feels foolish. Placing his hands in his lap, he folds them, then moves them to his knees.

  Sven comes back. He’s apologizing. Kneeling.

  Roger is gone from the door.

  Sven is cooing again, offering comfort, taking Jimmy’s cock in his hand. Not really listening, Jimmy opens his knees and watches Sven take him into his mouth. Jimmy sighs. Tries to relax. He closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the moment. Soon his excitement returns, his cock grows. He starts to rock his hips. As Jimmy allows the first soft groan to escape his lips, he opens his eyes.

  Roger is at the door again.

  Roger immediately puts his finger to his mouth, makes the shhhh face.

  Roger grins.

  Jimmy casts his eyes toward Sven. His eyes are closed, his head bobbing.

  He is making sloppy, sucking noises with his mouth. Jimmy feels the muscles in his abdomen go tight of their own accord.

  Cutting his eyes back toward the door, Jimmy sees Roger place his hand close to his crotch. His grin is gone now, replaced by a solemn look of watchfulness. Sven takes his warm mouth from around Jimmy’s cock and presses the wet shaft against the boy’s abdomen. Tucking his head between Jimmy’s legs, Sven uses the flat part of his tongue to lick the crack of Jimmy’s ass. His tongue dances from Jimmy’s asshole all the way to his soft down covered balls.

  Jimmy exhales loudly, his nostrils flaring.

  That feels so. Fucking. Good.

  Aware that he’s quickly moving beyond the place where is capable of controlling himself, his facial expressions, Jimmy looks to the door. He’s like a drowning man, except that maybe he wants to go under. Reading the fear in Jimmy’s face, Roger grins encouragement. Raises his chin. But then Jimmy watches as Roger’s grin quickly fades. He lowers his head, bites his lower lip. He presses his lean body into the doorjamb, and goes back to silently watching.

  Jimmy decides to let Roger watch.

  Sven takes Jimmy’s cock back in his mouth and Jimmy groans out loud. Nothing to hide now. Glancing toward the door, Jimmy sees Roger peering down the hallway, like a lookout. Propping himself on his elbows, Jimmy watches the length of his cock disappear into Sven’s mouth, then appear again, wet and glistening. On the down stroke, Sven’s nose nestles into Jimmy’s pubic bush. Jimmy feels the head of his cock bump up against the back of Sven’s throat. Jimmy opens his knees and thrusts his hips forward.

  He’s fucking Sven in the mouth.

  Jimmy’s fear of exposure disappears, suddenly replaced with something quite like joy. Roger’s rapt attention and Sven’s warm mouth spur Jimmy on. He tugs his t-shirt high on his chest, rubbing his hand across his nipples. Looking into the mirror, Jimmy sees his own face contorted with lust, his own muscled, teenage body writhing with need. Jimmy delights in the sensations, the show he is creating for Roger and himself. He thrusts his groin up, watching the muscles in his abdomen work as he moves his hips.

  Jimmy feels a finger on the crack of his ass.

  He squirms, a stab of panic pulsing through him. His ass is sweaty, vulnerable. Jimmy’s not sure if he wants to be fingered. His biggest fear is that he will somehow find himself overcome with lust. In a weakened state, he will end up taking a cock in his mouth or a dick up his ass. He knows he has to be vigilant. Diligent. And then before he can protest, Sven’s finger is inside his ass.

  The digit slips in easy, as if Jimmy’s ass were meant to hold a man’s finger—

  Or maybe something more!

  Jimmy clenches his cheeks. Bears down hard. Pressing his shoulders into the mattress, Jimmy raises his ass. Sven rises to his feet, his mouth locked on Jimmy’s cock. Sliding his finger past the second knuckle, Sven gives the boy what he seems to need so badly. Now there is a little pain, just as there probably should be. Things are changing for Jimmy, turning all inside around. He moans as his cherry ass is finger fucked.

  With his hips high off the bed, Jimmy empties himself into Sven’s mouth.

  Sven swallows all the cream Jimmy has to offer. As his cock drains, Jimmy melts into a puddle on the bed. No longer driven by his own desires, he breathlessly relaxes, his soft cock still in Sven’s mouth, a finger still buried in his ass.

  Jimmy twists his trunk, but it’s more like a stretch than any real attempt at r
esistance.

  As Sven slowly removes his finger, Jimmy groans at the emptiness, which is almost as painful as the finger’s deep plunge. He feels obligated to object to the reaming he just received, a token gesture to defend his masculinity. But he knows now it would only be an empty gesture: his tight little ass has already fallen.

  He’s been fucked!

  Gloriously, sweetly, popped.

  Fingered into a whole new place, a different state of mind.

  Uncorked.

  Jimmy savors the mild pain. His balls ache, his ass stings. He feels spent. Utterly, deliciously, empty. Helpless.

  Sven kneels beside the bed and closes his eyes. Jimmy’s not sure what is happening now. Sven has a serious expression on his face. Is he praying? Jimmy cranes his neck, looks off to the side of the bed. He sees Sven stroking his cock into a towel, relieving himself.

  Jimmy grins. Tilting his head, he carefully watches Sven’s face. Waiting for the moment, the climax. Sven comes quietly, almost reverently, without much of a sound.

  Jimmy remembers the door. He looks for Roger and finds him gone.

  As Sven cleans himself up, Jimmy wonders if Roger saw him get fingered. A deliciously dirty feeling sweeps over him. He wonders if Roger heard him moan and writhe as he filled Sven’s mouth with his cum. Wonders if Roger managed to bring himself off.

  Wonders if Roger filled his pants with sticky, warm cum.

  Goodbyes are quick and utilitarian.

  One of the men is already gone. Another is watching TV. Sven and Roger have a brief conversation in the kitchen. Jimmy practically floats from room to room. Sven presses a business card into his palm, and whispers “Call me” in that odd clipped accent. And then Jimmy is in the small VW, and he and Roger are being driven back to the mall.

  In the mall parking lot, Roger spots his cousin—a girl from Carnal’s senior class, driving her mother’s car—and he flags her down. She offers to drive Roger and Jimmy back to Carnal.

  On the ride home, Jimmy beams. He turns to say something. Roger makes the shhhush face, cutting his eyes to the front seat.

  Roger raises his hips from the seat, reaches into his front pocket, and withdraws a fold of cash. He grins and shuffles through the bills. About fifty or sixty dollars.

  Jimmy stops smiling. Roger had no money earlier at the mall.

  “Where did you get money?” Jimmy whispers

  Roger shushes him. Grins. Nods to the front seat.

  Jimmy frowns. He feels certain the money came from Sven. He extends his hand, flexes his fingers. If the money came from Sven, the money is his. Roger chuckles, peels off a twenty and a ten, and gives them to Jimmy.

  Jimmy takes the bills, stuffs them in his pants. Now he knows the money came from Sven. He puts his hand back out and flexes his fingers again.

  Roger leans toward Jimmy. “I already had some of this,” Roger says.

  Jimmy knows this is a lie. He knows you have to watch Roger.

  He keeps his hand extended.

  Roger peels off a few more bills—a five and some ones—and hands them over. Jimmy watches his friend put the remainder of the money into his pocket. Jimmy knows his friend profited from this afternoon.

  He purses his lips. Looks thoughtfully at his friend, his crown of soft brown curls.

  Jimmy decides to let it go. Instead of asking about money, he wants to ask Roger how much he saw. Did he watch Jimmy squirm with a finger up his ass? Did Roger come in his pants out in the hallway? Did he like what he saw?

  It occurs to Jimmy that this probably isn’t the first time Roger has earned money on the back of his dick. It’s a sobering thought. As soon as Jimmy thinks it, he knows it’s true. He can feel the enormous certainty of it.

  As the car rounds a corner, glare from the setting sun blinds Jimmy. Looking at Roger, Jimmy sees a halo of sunshine glowing iridescent over his head. The car speeds up, continuing in a new direction, putting the sun behind some trees. Roger’s halo disappears, but he’s still an attractive boy. Wild and dangerous.

  Roger grins at Jimmy.

  Jimmy grins back. He knows he was tricked, but he isn’t angry. More than anything, he is amazed. You can get paid good money for getting head, he thinks.

  —Getting sucked off!

  The world is a wonder of shifting truths and half-secrets.

  Anything is possible.

  MEN

  Men.

  Fathers, kings. Priests.

  Fifty percent of the heterosexual equation.

  Masculine, dirty. Raw.

  Men.

  A good man can inspire you, lead you to redemption. A bad man can leave you with a curse on your lips. Case in point: a girl named Joanie Salinger. She’s eighteen. Recently lost her first love, a boy named Roger Bones. Tonight she will learn a valuable lesson about men. She will enter a hallowed spot, a place trod only by men—a dimension not only of cocks and semen and sweat, but of mind. Look, up ahead! That small sign on the wall.

  It reads, MEN.

  Joanie Salinger sits calmly on the edge of the toilet seat, her hands folded in her lap. Staring out the crack between the door and the stall, she waits. Licks her lips. She has already decided that the next boy through that door is hers. She can just make out the dim sound of the crowd cheering in the gymnasium.

  Tonight Joanie’s school—Saint Barnaby’s—plays Carnal. She is on the visitor’s side of the gymnasium, which isn’t as crowded as the home side. Saint B’s has always had a lousy basketball team.

  Joanie wants a public space, but nothing high traffic.

  Careful not to spoil her school uniform, Joanie sits in quiet fury. She flicks the cobalt hair from her eyes. It’s a ferocious rage she has been learning to live with for months now. Roger Bones, her boyfriend—former boyfriend—betrayed her with her twin sister. Through an odd set of circumstances, Joanie watched the entire thing on video, start to finish.

  The heavy bathroom door swings open and then falls against its hydraulics, slowing working itself shut with a soft mechanical sigh.

  Joanie sits up.

  She missed who came in, but she doesn’t care. Squeezing her legs together, she enjoys the pressure her thighs place on her pussy. She clenches her abdomen, steels her resolve. Opening the stall door, she sees her reflection in the mirror: thin blue hair hanging to her shoulders. Freckles across her cheeks and nose. Pale, bare arms.

  Joanie moves to the back of the L-shaped room. Before she turns the corner, she hesitates. She hears a ringing noise. Her mouth is dry. She licks her lips.

  As she inches around the corner, the noise changes to the deep burbling sound of water falling into a pool. The man turns his head. His name is Don Manley, but Joanie doesn’t know this. All she knows is that he’s older than her. Older than she expected.

  This man is easily fifteen, twenty years her senior.

  His brows come crashing down on his forehead and he leans into the urinal. “This is the men’s room,” he says. His voice sounds stern. Irritated. He has intense blue eyes, and a strong, wiry frame.

  Joanie opens her mouth, but no words come out. It never occurred to her that she might run into an adult. A wash of shame falls over her. She looks back to the door. Her face heats up, her chest pounds. A sick feeling spreads through her stomach.

  Her only hope is to call this off. To apologize. Retreat.

  She looks back.

  His head is down now. He rocks back a little on his heels.

  Joanie realize that—for all his bluster—he is trapped, pinned to the bowl. This realization calms her, makes her smile. She feels some small amount of personal power. Taking a hesitant step to the left, she cranes her neck to see what he’s holding in his hand.

  Don turns his head. Watches her.

  His shoulders relax.

  She meets his eyes. She raises her hands as if to explain her presence in this place, then realizes she has nothing to say. Twisting her palms out, she shrugs a shoulder. Smiles, wordlessly shaking her head. Her hands float
to her sides.

  She grins. Looks at his penis.

  He laughs, but it’s not a festive sound. He asks what she wants, his tone of voice much softer now. Without waiting for an answer, he returns his attention to the urinal. Shakes his dick. For what seems like a long time, he stands silently staring into the basin, then slips his manhood back where it belongs and turns to face her.

  He does not raise his fly.

  “This?” he asks. No preamble. He rubs the front of his trousers.

  He has a confident look on his face. He’s not a bad looking man. Receding hair, a flat stomach. Strong sinewy arms.

  “In here?” He asks, his voice smooth as butter now.

  He takes a step toward her. He is no longer trapped, if he ever was. “Sure,” he mumbles, answering his own question. “Sure.”

  Joanie feels her stomach lurch. She knows she is going to do this thing, but she grapples with the way it’s playing itself out. For the first time since her campaign began, she wonders if she has gone too far.

  Don puts his hand on her side, just below her arm pit. He has big strong hands. He easily cups her torso, uses his thumb to brush against the side of her breast.

  “Like this?” Don asks.

  His thumb strokes her nipple. She enjoys the sudden electric of his touch. After sitting in the stall so long, it feels good to be fondled, to be touched. As her nipples harden, her reluctance melts away. She sucks in her breath, then exhales.

  She hesitantly meets his eyes.

  Manages a coy smile.

  She bites her lip.

  He doesn’t look like he expects an answer, but she nods her head anyway. She might be going too far, but she won’t turn back now.

  Don moves closer. He smells like burning wood, garlic. Some sort of citrus aftershave product. Suddenly his hand is between her legs, rubbing the crotch of her panties. His big fingers probe her soft pubic mound, the damp cotton between her legs.

  Joanie’s mouth drops open. She didn’t expect him to go there so fast. An objection is on the tip of her tongue. She wills herself to speak. But instead of protest, only a soft moan comes out. Her left thigh begins to shake, all of its own accord. She reaches for Don to steady herself, feels the fabric of his shirt, his hard body beneath.