Tuesday, July 3, 2007


We left the party behind us, all screaming queens and really bad flirtation, through the alleys with drunk people in big rainbow hats, walking like pigeons in long groups, beers on each end, crossed streets to avoid long lines outside of clubs, onto quieter streets, full clusters of people in sidewalk caf├ęs who had no idea what everyone was so sweaty and screaming about over there, and he led me up the stairs to my back door and I pretended not to have my keys, or to at least be in no hurry to find them. I kissed him the way that I do when I mean business, slow rolling, pressing him into the banister. I felt him get hard into my thigh. He had no choice, really, the friction alone would have made it happen. He looked abashed all the same, as if I’d never felt it before, his gorgeous cock getting where I want it to be. He smiled and knuckled his nose, avoiding eye contact when I touched it. He looked around him, as if we hadn’t been surrounded by half-naked men most of the day and night.

“Don’t worry,” I said, looking him straight in the eye when he found the courage to look at me, “someone’s always looking.” I unzipped his jeans and slid my hand in, no underwear, just sticky skin over soft, short pubes. He opened his mouth as if about to say something about going inside or being embarrassed, but I covered it before he could, tweaking his cock with a strong grab that made him whimper. He moved to my neck and bit into it, nervous energy and revenge. I gripped his dick harder and held the back of his head to me. “Bite all you want,” I said, “but take my pants off while you do.”

He grunted, with a short, sharp gnaw on my arm, then dropped to his knees, per the suggestion of my hand in his neck, and I watched the top of his head as his fingers got belt, button and zipper undone, as his fingers slipped my pants down, the underwear following, my cock dropping out, meeting his cheek in slaps. He didn’t go in right away, but regarded it instead, toyed it with his lips, looked up at me to see if we really were connected. My eyes drifted up, looking down at the alley, a blue-white streetlight casting sparkles in the broken glass, a man walking a zig-zag this way, overtaken by a small crowd of men in camouflage kilts. Going the other way were a small, older couple, hands over each other’s shoulders and behind them, screeching chubby girls on their cell phones. No one looked up. I felt a wet coolness, some friction, Brian’s tongue on me, then his fingers circling the shaft, the warmth of his mouth. I gripped the railing for a while and let my eyes shut.

He drank me in, sucked when I needed a suck, slipped around when I needed that. I melted there, slowing giving up to the sensations, the prickles in my neck and the hot, high tension in my back. I woke myself up with a moan and opened my eyes, looking down again at the alley. Now there were two men looking, watching. People passing looked at what they were looking at and most of them quickly turned away, but some lingered, unafraid, before walking on. The two who were watching weren’t saying anything to each other. They leaned on a wall, their shoulders pressed into each other. They were both tall and muscular, one with a shaved head and the other in short curls. One put his hand on the other’s belt. Another man walked by in a baseball cap, looked at them, then looked at us, passed them and he too leaned against the wall, staring. Brian picked up a little and I stopped him, called him up by the shoulders.

He winced when he saw me looking behind him, pressed his forehead into my cheek and said, “Please tell me no one’s looking.”

“No one’s looking,” I said.

I turned around and opened up my screen door. I’d placed a bottle of lube inside this morning, just in case I could get Brian to do this. “Shit,” I heard him say.

I turned around and saw him watching me, waiting for me to open the door. I bent him over the railing, lubed generously, opened him with my fingers and then pushed my cock in, the tip slowly disappearing between the cheeks. I looked up and saw there were five watchers now, leaning quietly against their wall, all just observing, though the first couple had turned slight into each other, their hands below each other’s beltlines.

“We’re going to get arrested,” Brian said.

I was just beginning to truly pump, my body slowly burning away, my mind with the watchers, what they were thinking, what they were doing, what they would do.

“Ahm. Ah. Don’t look at them.”

“How can I not?”

I covered his eyes with my hand and pressed on, starting to quake a little with every hit. With every burial of my cock in his ass. One of the watchers, a cigarette dangling from his shaking fingers, dropped his arm into his jeans and moved it slowly, arching a little against the wall. I watched him, our looks matching each other, open mouths and wide eyes.

“Say something,” I said, Brian’s eyelashes curling under my fingers.



“Please come.”


“Come! Come now!”

The watchers all visibly jolted. My heels raised up, pumping madly now and I almost lost my footing. “Okay,” I said and pulled out of him. I turned him to face me again and leapt up on the railing, my feet hooked into the slats, jerking myself off. “Okay, good, aw fuck that’s… good… OH!” The come flew up and hit in three places on his shirt. Brian was pulling his pants up when I opened my eyes, his face turned away from the watchers. I rolled a splotch of come on my finger and dipped it in his mouth, then rolled another and put it in mine. I kissed him, winked at the watchers and fished my keys out of my pocket.


Anonymous said...

Damned good show. Such a hot idea... I would have watched for sure.

Droplet said...

Every year after the parade I look up at the back stairs in alleys, and I've seen lots of naked people and lots of parties but never anyone actually going at it, which is just plain disappointing. Someday.

Thanks, sweetie!