Brooklyn Street Boy - By David McMann
It was 3:30 AM, and I was pretty high. I had just returned to my apartment in Brooklyn after earning $150 hustling in Manhattan. I'm not a hustler, but the rent had to be paid, I had been out of work nearly two months and my savings were all used up. I'm barely 20 years old, work out regularly, and consider myself pretty good looking, so I have no trouble picking up a John at one of the Upper Eastside hustling bars. I can only manage to hustle when I am pretty high. It helps me forget. I guess I had about 6 beers and had smoked 2 or 3 joints by the time I got home.
I tossed the money on the dresser and began getting ready for bed. I live on the second floor, above a topless bar. It is an old neighborhood, strictly blue collar, with a large number of Polish and Russian families. I love my apartment because it has lots of windows, stands on a corner, and is sunny and cool. Being from the MidWest, I like plenty of open space.
I stripped down to my jockey shorts, got another beer out of the fridge and went to the window for one last look at the New York Summer night. It had been in the 90's all day, both temperature and humidity, but now a slight, cool breeze was flowing into the room from off the river. The skin on my chest tingled as the cool air hit the small drops of perspiration.
That's when I saw him, sitting in the glow of the street light on the stoop across the street. He seemed to be looking right up at me. It was one of the Polish boys from the neighborhood. I had seen him often in the daytime, hanging around the corner with his friends. He had several brothers and sisters, and on Sunday mornings I used to watch the whole family march off to church together.He was about 17 years old, blond, not too tall, but well proportioned, with a great basket.
I wasn't sure if he could see me, so I stepped a little closer to the window. I could see his reaction as he changed his position on the stoop, and stretched his legs out in front of him. He lit up a cigarette, holding the match just a little extra long so that I could see his face in the glow. I was certain that he was straight, but figured I might just give him a little thrill. I knew that where I was standing he could see my crotch, so I stuck my hand down inside my briefs and began stroking my dick, while sipping my beer with the other hand.
As though he was mirroring my movements, he began to rub his crotch as he took another drag from his cigarette. I wondered how far this "monkey see, monkey do" act would go, so I dropped my briefs a bit and began to slowly stroke my dick, licking my hand from time to time for lubrication. The boy across the street straightened up a little, and I could see he was loosening his belt and unzipping his jeans. In a few seconds he was stroking his meat, right in rhythm with my strokes.
The new dose of alcohol my brain was receiving from the beer made me feel dizzy and light headed, and the whole scene seemed like some fantastic dream. Almost without thinking I found myself motioning the boy to come across the street. He stood slowly, hitched up his belt and walked to a spot right below my window.
"Want to come up for a beer?", I found myself asking. He gave a grin and a nod, and headed for the door around the side of the bar which was the entrance for the apartments upstairs. At the same time I found myself going to the stairway to let him in. My arms and legs were moving, but I seemed to be floating rather than walking.
At the foot of the stairs I unlocked the door and let him in. He was slightly taller than he appeared from the window, but every bit as handsome. In fact he appeared younger and one could say sweeter. He passed me and led me up the stairs, giving me a great view of his firm buns. His denim jacket had the words "Born to Run" emblazoned across the back, with a small patch, just at the hem, in the center, sewn on by hand, that said "Motley Crew".
I was amazed that at the top of the stairway he made the correct turn into the living room. It was an old building, and the apartment layout was unusual, yet this boy seemed to know his way around.
"Have you ever been up here?" I asked.
"I used to live in this apartment," he replied. "In fact my family lived here until I was about 11 years old."
He tossed his jacket over a chair and flopped on the couch while I ducked into the kitchen to fetch him a beer. I got myself another one, too, even though deep down inside I knew that I had drunk more than my quota for the day. I snapped the lid off of one can and handed it too him. He took it with a smile and immediately took a long, strong drink.
"I just got off of work, and was really thirsty. Thanks," he said. Once again he flashed that grin.
I opened my beer and sat down next to him on the sofa. He turned his body slightly and leaned against the armrest, looking at me. We sat sort of facing each other for several seconds, neither knowing quite what to say.
"My name's Steven," he finally said. "I know that your's is Dave. One of the bartenders downstairs told me last week. I live right over there, across the street."
He pointed to his family's apartment. All the windows were completely dark, and the building itself looked like it was sleeping.
"I work at a warehouse over in Brooklyn until 2 AM. Everyone is asleep when I get home. That's my bedroom right there", he said, pointing to a window directly across from my living room window. "I see you coming home late at night, too. Don't you ever close your shades? You can see everything in this apartment from my window."
He took another sip of beer, and then kicked his sneakers off, pulling his legs up under himself on the sofa. Then he put his beer down on the table and stripped off his t-shirt.
"Hope you don't mind," he said. "I'm still pretty sweaty from work, and somehow I feel at home here. Guess just being up here brings back old memories."
As I sipped my beer I looked him over. He had the strong muscles of a worker, not a body builder. I call them "natural" muscles, rather than the "artificial" kind. A small tattoo on his right bicep was the only flaw I could spot. His pecs were well defined, and his stomach was like a washboard; not an inch of extra fat. His chest was nearly hairless, with a sprout of black hair showing under each armpit. A thin patch of hair extended just beneath his navel and crept under his belt line.
I decided to get things moving along a little. Either this was a straight boy trying to satisfy his curiosity, or a fellow gay looking for companionship. If it was the first, I figured that we should have our beers and a bit of small talk, and then say our good-byes so I could get some sleep. If it was the second, well, I could always sleep in tomorrow.
My visual excursion over his body had it's effect on my tool, which was now quite obviously hard inside my shorts. I didn't try to hide my arousal at all, and even stretched out my legs a little to heighten the display. I saw his eyes fix on my bulge as I repositioned my body, and the very realization that he was looking caused my dick to give a little twitch. Another flash of alcohol hit my brain, rushed along no doubt by my faster heartbeat. I stood and stepped over to the lamp, staggering just a little as I walked.
"If it's so easy to see into my living room, maybe I better dim this light a little", I said, flicking the 3-way bulb to its lowest setting. The lowered lighting seemed to relax Steven, and I saw him unlatching his belt buckle as I stepped back to the sofa. This time I settled down right next to him, with our two bare arms touching each other. He made no attempt to move away, but instead pressed his leg against mine. We sat that way for a minute or two, sort of letting our eyes adjust to the new lighting.
And then, as if to indicate that the time for coyness was over, Steven turned to me, smiled and slowly unzipped his fly and slipped out of his jeans. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and his dick sprang from its prison with a snap, extending to its full 7 inches. Mine was waiting to be released from its white cotton tent, so I obliged by slowly sliding my briefs off, letting them fall to the floor.
We sat there, naked, next to each other, with our two dicks, nearly identical in size and shape, pointing upward. A small drop of pre-cum had already formed at the tip of his cock, and in just a few seconds my cock gave forth its drop, as if in response.
Steven spit on the palm of his hand and began to slowly stroke his member. Not wanting to be left behind on this twin charade, I duplicated his actions. Our arms brushed against each other as we stroked in harmony. We were both silent, with our inner hungers unspoken, yet expressed. I leaned my head towards his, and his lips met mine where our shoulders touched, and we kissed. It was a soft, affectionate kiss.
We both ceased our stroking and our arms intertwined in a passionate embrace. We kissed again, but this time no longer softly but fully. His tongue probed my mouth, and mine probed his, each tongue taking turns exploring. My eyes were closed, and somehow I knew his were as well.
Slowly we lay to one side on the couch, so that we were now lying beside each other, our two naked bodies touching nearly from head to toe, belly to belly, our two hard dicks pressed tightly between us, the wetness of our pre-cum dribbling on our skin. As if to try to get even closer in embrace our bodies writhed in love-making.
We were lying on our sides, and I reached around with my free hand and grasped one of his round buns and squeezed. Since my buns were against the back of the sofa he could not react in kind, so he placed his free hand between us and gripped our dicks together and began double-stroking them. All the while I continued to knead his ass-flesh, probing with my finger from time to time between his buttocks. Each time I touched the edge of his asshole I could feel him quiver, sort of part fear, part thrill.
By this time we were both beyond self control, and I licked my finger and began probing his ass in earnest. After a few tries, I was able to enter, but just a little. He was tense, blocking my further entry. I wet my finger again, and this time tickled his sphincter muscle a bit before entering. This made him relax slightly, and the relaxation seemed to be an invitation to probe deeper.
All the while, he continued to stroke both of our dicks, with a steady rhythm that seemed to say "Let's try to make this last as long as we can, it feels so good!". I was in no mood to argue with that. By now my finger was fully in his ass, and his thrusting indicated that he wished my finger was even longer.
Once again Steven wet his hand with his saliva, and continued stroking our two dicks. I removed my finger from his asshole, and thought I could hear him sigh in slight disappointment. I used my hand to turn his body slightly so that his back was now on the sofa and my body was resting on top of his. He released his hold on our dicks and I began to slowly kiss his shoulders, then his chest, then his nipples, which tingled as I nibbled at them. Lower and lower my tongue swept as I licked his navel and then the soft, sensitive areas on either side of his pubic growth. His body quivered as I got closer to his now rock-hard dick.
His hips rose off the sofa, thrusting his dick upward, as though begging me to cover it with my mouth. I began licking at the base of his cock, licking first up one side and then down the other side, avoiding the tip, teasing his just a bit. He began moaning softly each time my tongue reached the edge of his cockhead.
Finally, in one quick movement, I captured his entire dick within my mouth and began sucking, moving my tight lips up and down. The tip of his cock tingled as it hit the back of my mouth, and his whole body shuddered as my lips reached the cap, and my tongue played with the slit. Once again my finger probed his asshole, and again he lifted his hips, spreading his legs slightly to let my finger enter. I knew that in just a few seconds he would release his juices, so I stroked harder with my lips, sinking my finger deeper into his ass.
With a muffled cry of ecstasy he came, a flood Of jism filling my mouth and throat, his hips surging with spasms of delight. I took as much as my mouth could hold, letting the rest spill out onto his balls.
I let the jism out of my mouth on the palm of my hand, and used it to lubricate my cock, which had nearly exploded on its own from the excitement of what had just happened. Moving my body up between his outstretched legs, I kissed him warmly, letting him taste the few remaining drops of cum that my mouth still held. He wrapped his legs around by body, and my dick was pressed against his waiting ass.
"Oh, fuck me, please", he whispered in my ear.
Lifting his legs to my shoulders, I replaced my finger with my warm cock. Having lubricated and stretched this opening, I slid in easily, but the tightness told me that Steven was indeed a virgin.
Pumping slowly at first, I began to fuck him. Each thrust brought a gasp of joy from his lips, and as my pumping grew faster his gasps changed to whimpers. His arms were around my neck and his legs gripped my body tightly, as though he never wanted our bodies to be apart again.
"Oh, fuck me, fuck me", he kept repeating, between kisses and gasps. His pleading added to the excitement of the scene, and I could feel the wave of energy building in my balls, and the warm sensation of my fluids filling my cock shaft. In one tremendous burst I flooded his insides with my semen. I continued to pump until every last drop of cum drained into his ass.
He continue to lock me in his arms and legs and we lay that way together for several minutes, as I slowly removed my now limp cock from his hole. The combination of the alcohol and the love-making had drained all my strength and I slid off the sofa onto the rug in complete exhaustion. He slid down next to me and I fell asleep in his arms.
I awoke on the floor with the room flooded by sunlight. For a few seconds I had to gather myself together. Then I remember Steven and turned to look at him, but he was gone. A glance at the clock told me that it was almost noon. I struggled to my feet, every muscle aching from the activity of the night before. The door to the stairway was ajar, and I walked to the top of the stairs and noticed that the outside door was closed but unlocked. My visitor of the night had apparently left in haste.
I stepped back into the room, and only then noticed that the $150 that I had worked so hard to earn was no longer on my dresser where I had left it. A wave of anger, fear, and disappointment flooded my mind. I staggered back into the living room and saw his jacket where he had tossed it over the chair. In his hurried departure he had left it behind. Nothing else was missing.
That evening, looking out of my window, I saw him with a few of his friends. His eyes avoided my window, but I knew he could feel my stare. He had his arm around a girl and they were laughing and talking.
I dressed, put on Steven's jacket, and walked to the Korean fruit stand down the street to buy a pack of cigarettes. I had to walk right past the group on the way to the store. I took my time, giving them all a good, long look at my attire.