Six
months is a really long time to go without
having sex. And there’s only so much
jacking-off a red-blooded American queer can
do without suffering permanent brain damage.
That’s why, the night before Christmas,
right after I’d punched out from work, I
found myself in a predicament I would usually
have had the sense to avoid.
I went
to grab my coat from my locker.
Cocktail
waitresses were scattered about the hallway
in all variations of undress. Skirts hiked up
whilst trying to pull up jeans. Jeans on, but
the dress pulled off over their head, frilly
bras showing against silicon augmented
cleavage.
My
fellow cashiers were already gone, never
wasting time on group gatherings or after
work socializing; but Food and Beverage were
mostly young and prurient. Buxom girls with
brand new boobs and glitter nail polish were
shouting at each other, yakking into cell
phones, lamenting about shitty tips and
planning where they were going to go drinking
that night. The Last Chance, a bar right on
the outskirts of town, was their usual romp.
Milling
in around them were a few bartenders and
bar-backs (they stocked the bars for the
bartenders), their bowties off and their
collars unbuttoned. As I retrieved my coat,
and helped unzipped a hapless young brunet
from her skimpy uniform, I caught a look at
Jimmy.
Jimmy
was a bar-back: early twenties, spiky black
hair, green eyes and a lean, hard body.
He’s been the major jack-off fantasy for
me for over three months now, so I kind of
got him memorized, head to toe. Ok, so I
haven’t seen him with his clothes off,
but I can dream!
A blond
cocktail waitress named Brandy was giving him
hell.
“Do
you think I want to take you home with me
when you’re already drunk?” She
threw her tray into her locker with a crash,
then pulled on her coat. “What? Are you
going to get all fucked up for dinner
tomorrow too?” she poked her manicured
finger into his chest.
Jimmy
smiled and put up his hands in mock
surrender.
“You
fucking asshole! You know tomorrow’s
important. Mama’s been preparing for
weeks.”
“That’s
nice and all,” he said. “But I
don’t think it will matter none.
I’ll probably be passed-out before then
--”
Smack!
It sounded like a clap of thunder when she
smacked him in the face -- everyone turned to
see the fireworks. Jimmy just stood there for
a moment, head cocked to the side, eyes
closed.
Brandy
shook her head, then reached out to touch
where she’d hit him.
“Oh
shit, Jimmy ...” As her fingers touched
his flesh he pulled away from her.
“I’m fucking sorry!”
Jimmy
turned, shooting a scalding look at the crowd
of onlookers.
“Maybe
you should just go home now, Brandy.”
She
inched closer. “Baby, I said I’m
sorry. Don’t go making some federal case
out of this. After I get you home and
--”
“I’m
not going anywhere with you!” he hissed
as he rounded on her.
Their
eyes locked.
“Oh
yeah? You’re plastered, and you’ve
already got your first DUI. Want a second for
your fucking Christmas gift?”
Jimmy
looked down on the floor for a second. I
thought he was going to give in: he looked
like he was beaten. But then he looked back
up at Brandy again. Incomprehensibly then, he
looked over in my direction.
“He’ll
drive me home.” he said, pointing an
unsteady finger at me.
I’d
forgotten I was even there, watching the
scene as if it were an HBO soap opera.
“Me?”
I said.
“Him?”
Brandy said incredulously.
“Yeah
... him.” Jimmy chortled, pulling out a
small bottle of Jack Daniels from the vest
pocket of his leather jacket and giving me a
wink before necking a few mouthfuls.
“But
Jimmy --”
“Fuck
you!” Jimmy barked as he pushed past
Brandy and over to me, throwing an arm over
my shoulder, using me for balance. “Fuck
your dinner, fuck being sorry, and fuck that
lousy cunt mother of yours!”
The
look on Brandy’s face was plain wrong.
She didn’t look so much hurt as pissed.
Her jaw set, her eyes gleamed malevolently as
she put her hands on her hips.
“Fine.”
she said, adjusting the strap of her purse
over he shoulder, turning, then walking away.
“Fine
...” Jimmy said dully, more to himself.
He looked at me, pulled me closer, his arm
working like a vice: “I see before me a
night of endless ... possibilities ... and
women, all in dismay.”
“Amen!”
said a fellow bar-back, and the entire
populace of the hallway glided towards the
parking lot doors with jovial holiday
well-wishing and some hoots and hollers.
Jimmy
pulled me along with them. On the way out he
grabbed a Santa Clause hat off of a partially
animated Saint Nick and placed it atop his
head.
Outside
it was snowing; big, fleecy flakes covering
everything under an inch of pristine white
fluff, rapidly growing thicker. We
slip-slided out through the parking lot,
everyone rushing to uncover their cars and
get the fuck to wherever the fuck they were
going.
The lot
was mostly empty by the time I got Jimmy to
the my car. He had gotten heavy, and his
balance had become nonexistent. I leaned him
against the back door of my car as I fished
in my pocket and found the keys. I unlocked
the door, pulled it open and reached in to
turn over the motor. It sprang to life
without even a sputter, and I heard the heat
kick on automatically.
When I
turned around Jimmy was on the ground, arms
sprawled at his sides, his face a sublime
blank.
“Shit.”
I muttered as I tried to scoop him up off the
ground, but my feet slipped and I landed on
top of him with a thud.
“Argh!
Fuck man!”
“Er
-- God , I’m sorry.” I said. His
breath was hot against my cheek.
“Just
get off me; I can’t breath.”
I
sprang up onto my feet and just waited in
silence for a few moments. I was ready to
reach down and see if he was still conscious
when he reached his arm up perpendicular to
the ground.
“Well,
are you going to fucking help me up or
what?”
I was
suddenly He-Man, lifting grown men up off the
ground with a single pull.
“Easy,
Tiger ... you’ll pull it right off me
...” his hands were suddenly on my
shoulders, fingers splayed, worrying the arch
of my neck. And then he kissed me. He tasted
like whiskey and cigarettes; strong but
sweet. I was surprised at first, but my hands
found their way about his hips and were
pulling him closer to me in no time.
He
pulled away, disconnecting our lips and
giving me a quizzical look.
“They
were right. You ... really ... are ...”
and his words just stopped, like the puffs of
warm air they traveled on.
“What
--?” I said, but he pulled me in for
another delicious, mind-blowing kiss. I lost
track of time; I didn’t even care who
might’ve seen us. I had never been
kissed like that before in my entire life.
Fuck, if it wasn’t grand!
Before
I knew it we were in the back seat of my car,
my head in his lap, the smell and taste of
him driving me wild. A few heavy breaths
later I was on my knees, my pants pulled down
around my ankles, the orbs of my ass being
roughly pulled apart by Jimmy’s
surprisingly warm hands.
“Condoms?”
I croaked breathlessly.
“Haven’t
you heard?” I felt him push into me.
“Bar-backs do it bare-back ...”
We both
sighed lustily as he entered me, our bodies
joining.
“Go
slow,” I moaned. “It’s been a
while.” six months, four days and
twenty-two minutes -- to be exact.
“Yeah,
sure.” he said. But he didn’t go
slow. We went at it rapidly, moving from
position to position -- at some point I had
my face pressed hard against the cold car
window, and at another point I was on my
back, Jimmy atop me, kissing me deeply as he
jounced me -- and the car -- to a explosive
conclusion, like two school busses colliding
head-on.
He was
suddenly asleep. The inch of snow on the
windows had long ago melted away. Leaning
back against the back of the front seat, I
studied the sight of him. His slacks
unbuttoned, his fly down, his cock still
monstrously hard and shiny. The white dress
shirt he wore was open, a glowing shock
against the tan flesh of his well-defined
chest and rippled belly. His eyes were closed
and his lips shone flushed. And, of course,
there was the Santa hat stationed askew on
his head.
I could
make out the red mark Brandy’s hand had
left on his cheek. I reached out to touch it.
He jerked, his eyes flashing on me, his hand
grabbing mine. The next second he had let me
go and closed his eyes again.
“I’ll
drive you home now.” I said.
The
roads were clear and, serendipitously, I
already knew where he lived. I parked in
front of his apartment house. The bottom half
was lit up like the Fourth of July: ice cycle
lights, twinkling strings of crimson and
green, an inflatable Santa, a fully lit up
snowman, and seven ancient plastic reindeer.
I knew
the top half was Jimmy’s, the half with
out even a wreath in the window.
“We’re
here.” I said, my voice crackling.
His
head moved, he took a deep breath, then
reached into his still open fly to scratch
his balls.
“What?”
he said
“We’re
here.” I repeated. “Your
place.”
“Ah,”
he said, not bothering to open his eyes, but
tucking his still tumescent manhood into his
pants, carefully zipping himself up.
He
kicked open the car door, and rolled out of
the automobile, the door swinging shut on its
own. I leaned over and rolled down the
passenger side window, watching his haphazard
steps up the walkway. The snow was falling
lightly now, just enough for decoration.
Right
before he reached the porch he stopped,
turned back and squinted at me.
“You
coming up?”
The
stairs to his apartment were steep, mean
little steps. He didn’t bother locking
his door, just walking into the darkened
apartment.
“Shut
the door.” he said. A few seconds after
that he lit a cigarette, then finally flicked
on a light. He exhaled smoke menacingly out
his nostrils.
“Bedroom’s
in there.” He directed me with his head.
Inside
the bedroom the only light came from the red
digital alarm clock on the bedside table.
“You
can loose the clothes now.” He was right
behind me; I could feel his breath on my
neck, redolent with cigarette smoke. His
apartment had really good heat, I was
sweating already. As I pulled off my coat and
shirt, flinging them off into the darkness of
the room, I heard him working to take off his
clothes. The fall of cloth on the floor, the
tinkle of buttons and belt buckle. I
hadn’t even gotten my feet out of my
pants -- my underwear still caught on my foot
-- when he grabbed me, pushing his body up
against my back side, his arms groping down
my body, over my pecks, my stomach, then
pawing my genitals. He was wondrously hard
again and so was I.
“You
really work out?” he said, biting my
earlobe.
“Yeah,”
I whimpered.
“Nice.”
He used his body to push me over to the bed.
Not having much light to go by, I fell
awkwardly onto the bed. Jimmy pinned me to
the mattress; the only part of him that
wasn’t joined with a part of me was his
right hand. He was using it to guide himself
into me again.
While
he pushed in and out of me, the only sound I
could hear was that of my own ragged
breathing. Each thrust in brought forth a
sharp intake of breath. He wrapped his arms
under mine, up around my shoulders, grappling
me into the wanted position. This time was
slower, but still intense, deep, and somewhat
painful. But not the bad kind of pain. This
was the kind you remember in every wet dream,
during every first date, when the sex is
brand new yet somehow not nearly up to that
standard.
At some
point we fell asleep, him still inside me.
That
night I dreamt of dim red light on flesh, and
of Jimmy kissing me in the snow.
I woke
up to the sun in my eyes and Jimmy’s
lips pressed against the back of my neck.
Understandably, for a shuddering instant, I
mistook it for heaven.
I
cocked my head in surprise as I made out the
alarm clock on the nightstand.
11 a.m.
“Fuck,”
I croaked as I shot up and off the bed. I was
already late! Mom would already be up and
fixing Christmas dinner. Julie (my sister),
her two brats and her husband would already
be there. And Dad would be waiting for me to
help wash everyone’s cars. I could
already hear the disappointment in Mom’s
voice.
But
Jimmy grabbed me, tugging me back onto the
bed with him.
“Where
you going?” he said right before
planting another kiss on me.
“It’s
Christmas.” I said pulling away from
him. I had to get home, get showered and get
there. Thank god my gifts were already in the
trunk of my car. “I’ve got to
go.”
Jimmy
leaned up and watched me pull on my clothes,
clumsily tripping into my slacks and trying
unsuccessfully to stuff my slightly sore yet
stiff dick into them.
“Christmas
with the folks?” he asked, leaning over
and grabbing a smoke from the pack on the
bedside table. As the smoke plumed from his
luscious lips, I got a little shiver from how
blue his eyes were. Plus I could feel the
heat rising in me again, my dick plumping up,
straining my zipper -- just from looking at
his naked form. He was even better looking in
the harsh light of day. Every muscle, every
curve, every flawless, lovely inch of skin.
“Er
-- yeah, my folks, and my sister’s
family. The usual.”
“Sounds
nice. Do they know?”
“Yeah,”
I said obtusely. “I’m actually
late. They were expecting me like half an
hour ago.”
“No
... I mean, do they know you’re
queer?”
Direct
bastard!
I
nodded. “I told them right before I
moved back home.”
He
raised his eyebrows.
I
reached down and retrieved my white dress
shirt from the floor. I stopped half way
through putting it on; one arm in, and one
still out, frozen by the look on Jimmy’s
face.
“So,”
he said, his eyes lowering as if looking for
his next words on the floor, tangled in the
carpeting. “Can I come?”
I
slipped walking up the sidewalk of my
parent’s house. Not because it was
slippery, not because I was loaded down with
Christmas packages, but because I
couldn’t get my eyes pried off
Jimmy’s ass. The way his blue jeans just
hugged his butt.
And
down I went, the icy sidewalk hitting me hard
in the back, the cloudless sky laughing
harshly at me. A moment latter Jimmy was
pulling me to my feet and helping me pick my
packages out of the snow.
“You
know,” The smile that traveled across
his face was a shade naughty. “You could
probably walk a lot better if you looked
where you were going.”
I felt
the blood rush to my face. I suddenly
realized, that from then on, keeping my eyes
off of him would be down right impossible.
