I didn't relax again until I crossed onto the streets that were filled with bookstores, bars, strip clubs, and well lit arcades. I stepped inside of one of these to play a video game and to regroup.

Being approached in the park wasn't something I was ready for. Having major wood, while still being blocks from the area I planned to go, was puzzling. I suppose it wasn't that unusual when I was with my buds but being on the street with it created obstacles while crossing a park where guys were out looking for such ripe and ready displays.

A number of boys pressed close to a machine close to where I paused to play. They all looked disheveled and unwashed, as well as preoccupied, with the ferocity of the player and the game. I collected a crowd of people who watched my technique closely. One man closed in uncomfortably near to my backside. I cleared him with a sharp elbow that would appear to be attached to my fast reacting arms, hands, and fingers. Getting the message, he gave me lots of space.

He lost interest and disappeared, moving toward the other side of the arcade. I wondered if he had seen the evidence of my arousal. I looked down to be sure my T-shirt was still covering up for me. Stretching to play and leaning this way or that might reveal enough to attract attention. I became more aware not to over extend myself.

Had he followed me from the park or was he an arcade creature, looking for luck? I wasn't there to be manhandled by someone who I hadn't acknowledged or even seen. There had to be some manners in this game, even in town.

Strike two said a voice in my ear. What had I come there for and how would I accomplish what I came there to do? Men had approached me twice within half an hour and I'd managed to run both of them off. The arcade man didn't interest me in the least, but the man in the park seemed okay. He even apologized for wanting me. Why hadn't I stayed to talk to him.

I'd spooked and run for my life. I just hadn't expected to meet someone a few feet from my car. What did I want and how did I expect to get it? I needed to be prepared next time. I remembered a good boy scout was always prepared. I wondered if the same thing applied to those scouting for boys?

I finished the game and looked around. The machine with the younger boys was the only place where there was a group gathered together. I stood at the front entrance, breathing in the heavy inner-city air. I watched people passing; some looked me over, others didn't notice me at all, and to me they were only faces in a crowd. I was here. Now what?

Girls giggled as they shared secret conversations, walking fast on high heels with asses that swaying in the breeze. Some were attractive, others were ordinary. They all seemed to like makeup a lot. I tried to get a feel for the city within the city.

A cop car passed and I looked away, starting out of the door and in the opposite direction. The cop was driving slow, ever so slowly, checking for someone or anyone, or just moving on his appointed round.

Moving down the sidewalk I noticed a man moving away from a walkup window with a drink and a hot dog. I ordered a Coke for my parched throat and leaned on the nearby wall to enjoy it. My eyes took in the sights without finding anything of interest. Other guys near my age looked me up and down as they moved past.

There was no plan beyond being there. I wanted to find some action and see where it led. It's what came to mind when the feelings boiled up. It took a long time for me to just be there and I couldn't expect a lot of action the first time.

Be prepared. Don't get spooked again. Keep an eye open for some action and sooner or later I'd get the hang of the game and that's when I'd get into it. Guys looked as I leaned but they could just as easily be looking for a fight as a friend.

Did I want to be friends with someone who was down here doing what I was doing? An acquaintance of convenience, maybe, a guy that would give me what I needed without asking for much in return. That isn't to say I might not give as good as I got, but I wasn't sure I would. It would probably take time to make a first contact that just let me be me and didn't try to push me too far too fast.

Whatever it was about this part of town, I felt like I belonged here once I was here. I didn't like the long hard looks some of the guys gave me, or maybe I did, but wasn't sure what it meant.

I walked around the corner to the row of strip clubs I'd discovered when I was down there with my buds. With the wide open doors it was easy for us to catch a glimpse of naked skin. We'd stood there to get a glimpse inside. My crotch tightened as the damp musty smell filled my nostrils. It was similar to the smell of sweat on other athletes in competition.

The club's bouncer mostly blocked my view , but at the second open door the bouncer took pity on me, a rosy cheeked youth with lust in his brain. Standing to one side while I looked in on the watchers and the dancers, I knew what was on all their minds. It was loud, like a morning rugby match with everyone fired up and ready to go.

A group of soldiers stopped to help me watch, while they discussed finances. The bouncer offered them free drink tickets if they popped for the price of admission. I'd worked my T-shirt back into my jeans so anyone who wanted could see my excitement.

I felt sexual. I realized any of the soldiers would do fine. They were standing outside a strip club, filled with the same excitement that filled my jeans. I glanced down to see if any wood was apparent. One in particular kept pulling at the front of his bulging slacks.

The bouncer touted the assets of the "luscious lovely ladies" to the lusty lads, holding the door for them to get a look at the merchandise, and we all pressed together to get the full view. I pressed against the soldier with the same degree of ardor as I felt.

"Come on kid. You look hard up as me," he said, pressing me into their midst, keeping his hand on my backside.

They paid the man at the door. Their hot hard bodies spoke of pent up needs that peaked their interest in the naked girls. The hand on my ass stayed firmly planted as my cock started to throb, but before I got inside, the bouncer had a hold of my Denver Broncos shirt, extricating me from the grip of my benefactor.

"Hey, give the kid a break. He's horny," the friendly soldier said, passing a glance over the bulg in my jeans.

"Ain't we all? The kids a kid and if I let you take him inside it's my job, Mack. No can do. He can wait for you here."

"Sorry, kid," he said, pausing only long enough to get a last look at what I had to offer.

"Thanks," I said, feeling warm all over as I sensed a kindred spirit.

'What a nice guy', I thought as I stretched to see where they got off to.

"Beat it kid. I've let you see enough for one night," the bouncer ordered. "Go home and pound your pud and feel lucky I let you hang here this long."

"Thanks," I said, smiling as I walked down to find the next open strip club door.

I did think about the soldiers and considered waiting for them to come out. They were my age and on the same quest as me. They knew what they wanted and where to get it. It would be another year before I could meet a soldier like that and go inside to see him in action. It was an enticing prospect and all I could do was fantasize about it.

There was a powerful fever that ate at me but it was difficult to pin down just how to satisfy it. Being there helped. Interacting with people who didn't know me but knew what I was after excited me. That soldier knew, and he wanted to help me find it. But I couldn't wait half the night and he still might not surface again.

I moved on with my thoughts. My footsteps were the only sound I heard, once I turned the next corner. The raucous sounds of the clubs died away as I looked for something I recognized. When I turned to walk back to where the action was, I noticed a car bird dogging me. I tried to see inside, past the tinted windows, without success. The window made a whirring sound as it disappeared, while I searched for the driver inside.

I leaned in to get a look at him. Strike three a voice said in my head, reminding me that sooner or later I would have to stand still for something. He was maybe thirty, I thought, when we came face to face. My encounter with the horny soldier had my desire raised to the level that fear wasn't my first thought. It didn't hurt that he had a slight build. We stared at each other for a few seconds until he decided it was now or never.

"You want a ride?" he asked, no pretense in his voice.

It was an invitation inside the green car.

My heart pounded faster than ever. All my instincts said to just say, 'no', but I opened the door, sitting as close to it as I could once it was closed.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked. "I'm Ted."

"I'm Brian," I lied, angry because I couldn't think fast enough to have only one name to remember.

"Hi," he said in a soft puff of air, while I stared out of the windshield.

I could feel his eyes on me. He had to see I was hard as stone when I turned to look into his car. It was a good sized car, but not big enough to keep his hand from coming to rest on the seat too close to my leg. I curbed my instinct to run, but I still wasn't listening. I held the door handle and moved another half inch from the hand.

"You're not scared of me are you?" he asked with concern.

"No!" I blurted, taking one quick glance at him.

"No? You've never done this before, have you?"

"No!" I said without the excitement in my voice.

"I'll pull over down out of the light," he said, moving the car slowly enough so that I could have jumped out and walked away with little effort.

He moved his hand back on his side of the seat. I let go of the door handle, taking another glance at him, wondering why I couldn't breathe.

"I'm easy, Brian."

"What?" I said, not recognizing my name already.

"Brian. That isn't your name is it?"

"No," I admitted. "My name is Clete," I confessed, unable to come up with anything else.

At least it was a name I could remember.

"Clete? I like that," he said, keeping both hands on the wheel as he glided over to the curb before turning off the engine.

"What are you doing?" I asked with suspicion.

"I want to look at you. Do you mind?"

"No," I said, looking into his face as he studied mine.

"You're a babe, Clete. Can I blow you now?"

"No," I said. "I don't do that."

What a dope, I thought.

"You don't?"

"No."

"What do you do?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling my chest tighten. "I mean I've never done anything like this before. I don't know anything."

"You don't?" he asked. "Clete, you know exactly why you got into my car. If you want to get out that's fine. I'm not interested in restraining you, but don't tell me you don't know why you are here."

His voice was soft, even understanding, but he was sure of his facts. All he had to do was look at me, sitting there shaking, yet making no attempt to escape the confines of his car.

"Yeah, but I don't want to do anything about it. I'm not ready for that," I said, knowing he knew better.

Everything I said was contrary to what I wanted. Not only that, it sounded silly, because of the evidence he could see.

"You want to go home without doing what you came here to do?" he asked.

"No," I said, more confessing to him.

I needed something to quell the burning in my groin.

"If I jacked off would that upset you?" he asked.

"No," I said, having seen my friend do it plenty.

Never a man, a stranger, in the dark, in a car in the city. It was exciting and repellent at the same time. My stomach churned, my dick throbbed, and I was mesmerized by what was going to happen.

"Can I see yours? I won't touch it if you don't want me to. I just want something to look at to help me along. You make a nice fantasy but seeing your cock will get me going faster."

"Sure," I said, lifting up to unzip my jeans, finding it more difficult to do sitting down with the excitement that seemed to be built into my dick. It was hot in my hand and thicker than it had ever been. The tip was wet and the veins expanded with a river of blood increasing my arousal. I felt hot and a little bit faint, feeling the cool evening air on my most private part.

"You're already hard, aren't you? That's a nice piece. You are a thick one," he said, stroking himself easily. He opened the front of his pants to make sure I got the full view.

He was maybe an inch longer than me but nowhere as thick, especially with the new girth I'd achieved merely being in the situation with him. The head of his cock swelled as he jerked, making it look top heavy and a bit overdeveloped. He didn't seem to notice as he stared at mine, flailing faster as his hand made sounds against the hard flesh. He was breathing harder and began to moan, as his hips lifted to meet his hand, I was captivated by his technique.

He never took his eyes off my dick and it made my crotch tighten. My dick ached in a savage way that made me want to grab it and match him stroke for stroke. I didn't want to let him know how much watching him turned me on, or maybe I didn't want to admit it to myself. I refused to touch myself and it only made me harder. My dick moved provocatively as the throbbing grew more intense.

It was all I could do to control my breathing so he wouldn't see my chest pumping large gulps of air. Before I could stop him, his hand moved across my thigh and his fingers slipped around my not hard flesh.

It was the hand he'd been using on himself. It was damp, warm, and inviting. My initial reflex at the contact didn't deter him, and I did not stop him. My brain went into a whirlwind of incredible heat and passion. In a few seconds I had lost the imaginary control I'd had over myself.

The first jet of cum splashed the glove compartment, dripping down in gobs of white fluid. The next jet went higher, arching onto the dash, and I felt as if I was disappearing into the seat as he hammered away on me. I gasped and felt two more quick jets release while my brain sunk into my soul and my dick felt as if it had exploded, with the warm hand all that was holding the pieces of it together.

My chest heaved, my heart pounded, I didn't know where I was or what was happening to me. It was glorious even as my mind and vision slowly deposited me back inside the green sedan with the dark windows.

I watched him perform the same operation on himself, using my cum as his lubrication. He deposited several quick gobs of cum onto his dash as he held a handkerchief under it to keep the dripping under control.

"Wow," he panted. "You're a stud and a half. Not just a pretty face either. Thank you. Thank you. That's the best I've had in a long time."

"You're welcome," I said, watching his erection fade and realizing my dick was still exposed.

I used the tail of my T-shirt to wipe the wet shinny apendage before tucking it carefully back into my pants. When I looked again, he'd put himself away and was wiping the dials on his dash free of the last remnants of his discharge.

"You like watching?" he said, having an understanding for my excitement.

"No big deal," I said, no longer trapped inside a delicate desire for release.

"I'd say it was a pretty big deal the way you got off. Do you always cum that much?"

"Yeah!" I said, not knowing if I did or didn't, because I'd been so deep inside my own lust that I didn't know for sure if it was more than usual.

"Are you okay? I wouldn't have done that if you hadn't been breathing so hard. You were ready to pop that's for sure."

"I'm fine. It was okay," I said, offended that he thought watching him turned me on all that much.

"Thanks," he said.

"Thanks for what? I didn't do anything," I thought a bit confused.

"It was nice. I'd like to see you again. Here's a card with my number. Do you come down here often?"

"Not really," I said, thinking fast. "Friday nights if I come to town. "I play rugby Saturday morning, so I don't stay out late."

"Rugby? That's a rough game," he said, giving me a second once over.

"It's physical. You use all you got when you play. I like that part of it."

"That explains the body," he said. "You've got a nice build. Not too big but not small either."

"Thank you. I need to get going," I said. "Can you drop me off at the park back down the main drag?"

"Honey, that's a rough spot after dark."

"I'm not worried," I said, casting him a confident glance to let him know I knew what I was doing.

Considering my movements that night, convincing someone I knew what I was doing wasn't as easy as it sounded. Ted questioned me with his eyes, but drove me one block over from where I left my car, and let me out. I stood and watched him drive away before I went to get my car.

I didn't want him following me home. I took several side streets before finally working my way back to Aurora, feeling well satisfied for the first time in ages. It would last until the next day and then the feeling that I needed to do something to satisfy my lust would begin to build in me again.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
John Lennon gone 29 years this week (December 8, 1980). Imagine, giving peace a chance. He did. We should.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
Consider This:

In the season of good tidings and joy we don't want to be reminded of the misery in our world. Part of the next generation of LGBT youth are living on our streets, rejected by their families. When times are tough for you, imagine how hard it is for them, having no home, no food, and no gifts.

I understand it is difficult to know who to trust in these times when it seems everyone wants your bucks. Try to find a local group who is providing food, coats, and something to make the holiday better for LGBT kids who have nothing. They are our kids as much as society objects to us taking responsibility for helping them.

Volunteer to give a few hours to smile and make them feel welcome at some locally sponsored gathering nearby if you can. It will make them feel less alone and make your Christmas season all the better for you.

If you are looking for groups that help homeless gay kids, at the end of my book, 'The Center', is a list of national and local organizations that do their best to help them.

Peace & Best Wishes,
Rick Beck


Send Rick an email at [email protected]

On to Chapter Four

Back to Chapter Two

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"Walking Into Clouds" Copyright © 2009 - 2010 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer