Date: Mon, 25 Aug 2003 03:44:40 +0000 From: Bobby Reardon Subject: Where Were You When the Lights Went Out? This is fiction, not based on anyone living or dead. Don't read this if you are not over 18. Practice safe sex in real life. This is a short piece I just had in the back of my mind because of the recent blackout which affected NYC and other cities. If I get good feedback, I may write a few other vignettes, involving different characters. Please tell me what you think about this story, or any ideas you have for other chapters. The heat and anxiety of the dark city became his pulsebeat. Kyle was a mortgage broker in search of new opportunities. One of those opportunities had been a move to New York City 7 months earlier. He had been sitting in his Pittsburgh apartment, watching that horrible moment on television, over and over, like the rest of the world. The second anniversary was approaching, and the blackout had plunged the populace into fear, slowly usurped by unease. With each passing hour, Kyle felt more like he was 4 years old and at a wedding - he had no idea when the mess would be over or what part he had in the events. This was everyone else's experience. He was suddenly a guest, a stranger. After a few hours of staring at his blank apartment walls, he'd ditched his suit and tie for a tank top and shorts, dropping into a local bar for cool conversation and lukewarm beer. He spent most of his time away from work at the gym - not a whole lot else to do - and was satisfied with showing off his 5'9", leanly muscled, swimmer's body. In the face he was reasonably attractive, not exactly a model, not ugly. Just plain. He was average everywhere - face, penis, body - but he wasn't going to kill himself just to please others. While in the bar, he knew what to say, or more importantly, what people wanted to hear. But the casual chatter was strained and soon drove him further inside himself. He found himself wandering again. The anonymity was a siren's call, the restlessness too enticing to ignore. He walked along the dark streets, deserted aside from a few shadowed figures. A young couple, his jeans bunched around his beefy calves, sweat-stained black tee pushed up to his shoulders, her skirt hiked up, panties in a tattered heap beside a trash can, her shiny blouse half-open, flimsy bra cups pulled down to expose her puffy areola. His mouth on her tits. Her nails on his nipples. Her hand on his massive cock. His shaft in her pussy, grinding, thrusting, parrying as her hips bucked to meet him. Kyle wanted to be a part of what they felt, to understand such brutal, mindless pleasure. His fat hardon swelled obscenely as he freeballed inside his shorts. His tank top plastered itself to his smooth chest, a thin white sheet exposing every lithe curve in his upper torso. A few moments later, huskier, a louder, more violent moaning filtered into earshot. Kyle watched them. A twink, young but not as young as he wanted people to think, slapping away an older, greying man's hands. Glancing around in case of discovery. Purring for the half-naked daddy to stop, then mewling from pleasure as thick, hairy knuckles explored his well-used asshole. With each cry the twink had less clothes, until finally his shorts were tugged off his body, leaving him only in sandals and a bleached smile. Kyle lowered his own shorts and began to slowly stroke himself, feeling the precum dripping against his flat belly and inner thighs. The twink licked his daddy's stubble, then daddy pushed him against the wall, smacking his creamy bubble butt over and over and over. Twink turned around, the dark roots in his dye job visible even in such faint moonlight, and swallowed his father's bent shaft to the root. Kyle wanted to join them, wanted to taste the juices inside the twitching twink hole winking at him, but a mental wall blocked his path. He'd never felt comfortable in gay circles, never sure of what role he was supposed to fill or what fantasy he had to play out to please others. He had spent most of his life alone; that was all he knew. As he threw his head back, staring at the remarkably vivid moon while he neared his climax, a strong, sudden set of hands wrapped around his waist. Coaxed down his erection. Controlled the beats of the meat. Kyle whimpered at the stranger's beard scraping his cheek. "A-A cop could come. Please don't..." A deep, rich chuckle reverbated in his ear. "Who do you think he is?" As the stubble slipped down his spine, one hand parting his tight cheeks enough to slide an experienced tongue deep inside his near-virgin rectum, Kyle finally saw the handcuffs dangling from the daddy's bunched uniform pants. He would have laughed if his breath was not sucked away at the sensation of a bulbous head pressing against his pucker. "C'mon baby...you can do this...let me see if that ass feels as good as it tastes..." The beard singed his neck, the tongue deep inside his ear. Kyle loosened his anal muscles, trying to accomodate the thick invader. Only several feet away the twink was watching him, smiling at him, stroking his small penis in time with Kyle's own cautious tugs. Kyle felt dirty, used, fucked by a total stranger, but he felt alive. "Sooo tight...love your ass...ohhhhh" The beard shuddered as his gallons emptied inside Kyle. Before Kyle could react, he was spun around. Before he could see his new sex partner, the beard had sank to his waist, eagerly swallowing Kyle's 5 hard, plump inches. An eager tongue suddenly sank deep into his devirginized hole, lapping away at the fresh load the beard had deposited inside him. Kyle never wanted the dual sensations to end, but in time he shot into one mouth as the other mouth pulled away. With a kiss planted on each cheek, and a final tongue swipe up Kyle's crack, the rear mouth was gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw the twink, giving a smirk and a slight wave as he gathered his clothes and left for the night. Apparently daddy had gone home quite a while ago. Meanwhile, the beard stood up, wiping his mouth. Kyle saw his lover. Mid-30's. Well-groomed, cinnamon-colored beard and mustache. Aside from that, and pretty green eyes, he was average. They dressed in silence, preparing to go their separate ways. "I've never...done that before." The stranger stared in confusion for a moment, as if Kyle had broken an unwritten law by speaking. "You mean cruising? Dicking a stranger? Well...I never have either, to be honest. I just got caught up in the moment." The two men exchanged smiles, not as uneasy as they had expected to be. Kyle extended his sweaty hand, and they exchanged handshakes. The stranger let out that sexy chuckle again. "What a formal way to end the night, huh?" "Why does it have to end?" The stranger stared at Kyle again. Perhaps testing him, looking for signs that he was really a serial killer or pulling a con. Or wondering why this young man was so desperate to continue the contact. Whatever the reason was, he wanted to know more about the younger, clean-shaven man. "Maybe it doesn't. My name is Abraham, but I go by Abe." Kyle almost extended his hand, again, then rolled his eyes with a slight amused grimace. "We already did that, didn't we? Hello, Abe. My name is Kyle." Abe shifted, scratching his beard for a moment as he pondered taking a risk. "Hi, Kyle. I don't live too far from here. I had to get out of that hovel. If you don't want to go to my place, I mean if you think I'm psycho or something, then we can..." Kyle shook his head. "No. It's alright. I just don't want to be alone." Abe smiled, flashing naturally white teeth, and those eyes. "Neither do I." And off they went, no longer strangers in a strange, dark city. -- E-mail at Reardon_930@hotmail.com