An account of my life through my writing, the arts, men and media. All things homoerotic.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A MUSE OF FIRE
He used a straw. Two of those tiny black straws that go into drinks. It looked like a Greyhound; vodka and grapefruit juice. The guy sitting next to him ordered a bourbon and soda and took the straws out , throwing them on the bar. He took a swig and chomped on the ice. Too aggressive. Probably an alpha male and would put up a fight or worse yet, a top. Greyhound was definitely a bottom. He caught my eye again and smiled as he sipped his drink. Bourbon and Soda saw the exchange of glances and smiled. Probably thinking a three way was in his future. I smiled back and turned to the mirror behind the bar. I could watch them both without staring. Greyhound was perfectly manicured in that pristine and antiseptic way that so many young gay men seem to fInd attractive these days. Bourbon and Soda was much more rough around the edges and more to my liking. But not tonight. They chatted and looked my way again. I ignored them.
I was reminded of a night in Paris a long time ago when I drank absinthe with twin brothers. They were angelic with porcelain skin and black hair. The more they drank the more assertive and demonstrative they became. We sat at the back of the bistro bar in the shadows. They were in perfect sync with one another as they ran their hands up my thighs to my engorged cock. Sitting in the bar in San Francisco I could feel my member swelling with the memory. They held hands behind my head as they kissed my ears and nuzzled the sides of my neck. Without speaking they leaned into each other in front of me and began to kiss. I stretched out my legs, leaning back to observe. Together they looked at me with one eye, smiled and kissed me as they stroked my cock and balls in my woolen trousers.
I heard a gasp and a laugh. When I opened my eyes there was a painted whore standing in front of us. She kept laughing with a mocking and nasty tone. I pushed the boys aside and stood, knocking the table and spilling the absinthe. The boys quickly grabbed the drinks to keep them from falling over.
“Perhaps Mademoiselle would care to join us. Or does she only like to watch for her amusement?”
She stared at the bulge in my pants and directed her speech to my erect penis.
“Perhaps Monsieur would like a real woman to satisfy him and not two silly little boys.” The boys giggled.
“I am quite satisfied with my two silly little boys, Mademoiselle. Perhaps if Mademoiselle washed the make-up from her face and bathed, I might reconsider, but for now my two silly little boys are much more to my liking. They are much cleaner I'm sure.” The boys laughed out loud and the whore turned on her boot heel and left.
“Come my darlings, let me take you to my home.” There was something about one of the twins that had piqued my curiosity and I felt I must pursue my gut feeling.
Greyhound caught my eye in the mirror and smiled invitingly. Yes, he was the one tonight. I smiled back. Bourbon and Soda had his back to Greyhound and was engaged with another man. Greyhound made his way over to me.
“My boyfriend and I couldn't help but notice how attractive you are.” He held out his hand. “Evan.”
“Nice to meet you, Evan. That is very nice of you to say. Alejandro. But please call me Allay.”
“What a lovely accent. What is it?”
“I am Spanish and Greek and speak both languages.”
“It makes you even more attractive, Allay.”
“You are too kind.”
We paused in our little game and he looked directly into my eyes. His expression changed as he noticed something.
“You have flecks of red in your pupils, Allay.”
“Perhaps it is only the reflection of the lights.”
“No, I see that too.” He paused and stared.
“Tell me what you see in my eyes, Evan.”
“I see...fire and ...”
His mouth opened as he licked his lips and swallowed hard. I reached down, grabbing his crotch. He was hard and leaned into me. “Do you see this, Evan?” I kissed him and I could feel his knees buckle as he caught his balance.
“Jesus. What just happened?” Evan stepped back, sitting on the bar stool next to mine.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“What the fuck just happened? I was looking in your eyes and the next thing I remember...Jesus, what the hell just happened?”
“I'm not sure what you mean. You told me you saw red flecks in my eyes. That's all.”
Evan adjusted his hard on.
“Uh, maybe I could meet you in the bathroom, Allay?”
“Maybe. But I have a better idea. I will get up and leave through the back door of the bar. There is an alley in the back. Meet me out there in a few minutes.”
Evan took the straws out of his glass and finished the drink.
“I'll be there after I order another drink.” He grabbed the attention of the bartender. “Shot of Jamison, please.” I stood and walked passed Bourbon and Soda who was still engaged in a heated conversation.
I was still hard from thinking about the twins as I walked outside into the chill of the foggy night. I had been to the alley earlier in the evening making sure it was the perfect location for what was about to transpire. My black bag was where I had left it behind the dumpster. How many nights, how many men and boys? How much longer? My hunger grew with anticipation. My cock raged in my pants. My mouth watered as I thought about Evan. The back door to the bar opened and light spilled into the alley, illuminating me as I leaned against the opposite building.
“Ah, there you are. My god you're sexy.”
“Come to me then.”
Evan closed the door shrouding us in foggy darkness that glowed from the lights of the city. He crossed the alley and stood in front of me. I took him by the back of the neck and pulled his lips to mine. I kissed him hard, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. No eyes, just let it be what it is. Pure sex, no eyes. Let him want me without the eyes. Evan kissed me back, his hand fumbling for my cock and then my belt and zipper. In a moment he had my cock out and was stroking it. With both hands on his face, I moved them to the tops of his shoulders and pressed him down to his knees. He held onto my cock and licked the shaft to the head, where a drop of precum had formed. He licked it greedily and then opened his mouth. He moaned with pleasure as he sucked me like a newborn babe.
I grabbed him under the arms and brought him up, kissing him, tasting myself on his lips and tongue. I reached for his belt buckle, loosened it and opened his pants. They dropped to the ground as I turned him around, pushing his head down. I dropped to my knees, pulling his underwear down to his ankles. With both hands I spread his ass cheeks apart, spit and dove into the crack. I was on fire. I could not get enough of his ass. He groaned as I jammed my tongue over and over again into his hole. I stood, spit on my palm and lubed my cock. Without using my hands, I thrust the head of my cock into his asshole.
“Please use a condom!” Evan cried.
“Sweetheart, it doesn't matter.” I forced my way into his hole as he cried out. A rat scurried around the dumpster, stopping for a moment to observe us. His eyes reflected red as the street light caught them. He hurried away as if not interested. I reached down and brought Evan up to me as I kissed his neck.
“Fuck me, Allay, fuck me!” He whispered hoarsely. Reaching into my coat pocket I brought out a small dagger. With my other hand I twisted Evan's head to the side so I could kiss him. As I kissed him deeply I thrust the dagger into the other side of his neck. He whimpered as I brought my mouth to the wound and drank, thrusting over and over again into his ass. With my cock still in his ass, I came. He slowly slumped in my arms as the life left his body. I lowered him tenderly to the ground and pulled up my pants, fastening them and the belt. Reaching down, I picked up the lifeless body of Evan and carried him to the dumpster, effortlessly tossing him over the edge. I was invigorated. Alive. Strong again. Every cell aware and conscious. My eyes beheld objects I could not see before. It had been weeks since my last victim. I walked deliberately to the back of the dumpster and opened the black bag, taking out a plastic jug of gasoline. I spread it evenly throughout. I reached into my pocket and took out a package of matches, struck one and threw it into the dumpster. A whoosh of hot air ignited and flew up above the container. Two rats screamed and came flying over the edge, fell to the ground and ran away.
I put the gasoline back into the black bag and placed the strap over my shoulder. As I walked down the alley to the street, I remembered walking down another alley one hundred years ago in Paris as the naked bodies of the twins burned furiously in a funeral pyre I had erected in honor of their beauty. He was not the one. Evan was not the one. But tomorrow night I would find him.
"An artist has always gotta be in the state of becoming"... Bob Dylan...
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