From: davist@dsp.com (davist) Subject: Drunken Master by davis trell Date: Sun, 06 Oct 1996 01:09:18 -0800 Organization: Arora Drunken Master 1/2 by davistrell@aol.com I get drunk, I guess, I'm a master, and I went to the movies with my Hong-Kong boyfriend. He came here when he was three and developed a Chinese-American attitude. I stand in front of the board because I trust him, naked and he uses his throwing knives with great dexterity. I met his parents briefly and was polite, they liked me, I liked them, we're all great friends. He looked like Brandon Lee in the Crow, if Brandon were skinny, if he'd lived, if he looked more Chinese. He lives with a bunch of slackers in the Sunset, and I show up with my fancy car, an '91 tercel with a few dents in the body from minor accidents over which I had no control. He's enamored of Jackie Chan and hates Van Damme and turned me on to Reservoir Dogs. I volunteered to be Mr. Pink. He was Mr. Ocher, the color of his skin. Somewhere or other he developed a southern drawl, and an addiction to southern comfort. I was fucked up when we met, but we bonded. His hair was black and long, long, long before aerosmith made it out of date. Huge hair that he would put in a stick, pile it high, and come on like a japanese geisha. He read books but started from the back and read right to left, and showed me chinese ways. I'd hung out with a japanese, guy called Shido, japanese for Smith, but these two guys would never be friends. His was an older race and though he had the body of a twenty year old, he had the mind of a man much older. He was bitter. I was just cynical. How do you talk to a youngster older and wiser than yourself? We watched citizen kane and made love. I bought him a fundoshi and he told me that was japanese for dipenze. James Clavell had just died, but he'd never heard of Sho-gun. I think the only japanese he liked was Judge Ito even though there's a guy to defame the Japanese-American community. He drove a van, unlicensed, unregistered and was perfectly calm when the cop busted him on Brannan street. He was convinced, of course that he was going to jail, but I promised to be there for him. The cop only wrote a ticket as he was very convincing and had memorized his license number that he'd accidentally left at home, and the registration was in the mail. "I need a drink." he said. We drove to to Trader Sam's on Geary and ordered scorpions. "You don't know me, man." "I'd hate to. Life would be boring if we knew everything about each other. Be enigmatic." I advised. "If you'd grown up like me..." "We all have our baggage.." "Yeh, but you weren't a chinese fag. The shit I got at school.." "You think because I'm white it was easy." "Fuck, you'll never understand." It was really early, 11 a.m and we were getting loaded. "Let's get outta here," said the intelligent one. I can't drive, not with this DUI I'm still working on. Every ThursdayI go to the education classes and discuss the meaning of life with the other drunks. "Let's go to the beach. Let's fuck." We stopped off at the 7/11 and bought beer, jerky and several packs of American spirit, his favorite cigarette brand. The wind blew through his hair and he played nine inch nails on the radio. He wasn't that big but he'd nailed me before. We drove over the red-orange bridge and stopped before we reached marin where the creeps live. I knew a place. We parked with a view of the gangrenous city lying in a yellow-jaundice fog over the water. We staggered down the hill, a half mile walk, down to the seedy beach. There were remnants of buildings that had held an armory back in the forties, now dank, littered with used condoms and a jaded sense of history. He screamed at the sky, collapsed to a sitting yoga lotus rolled on his back and started laughing. "It sucks man, it totally sucks." I took a beer and toasted the sentiment. We got up and walked down to the gray beach.We watched the waves lap the shore, we explored the flotsam and found nothing inspiring. We stared across the bay at the offices, people with real lives and laughed some more. Before the tide comes in, I knew of a cave just up the beach, where we could get out of the way and get way naked. He was up for it, so we went. We pulled our pants down and the rest and threw them in the sand. The cave wasn't high, you couldn't stand up, but our pricks could. Drunken Master 2/2 by davistrell@aol.com "It's cool in here, I like it." The waves lapped at the entrance and it wouldn't be long before we couldn't get out. "Thanks for being my friend, white-eyes." He took my cock in my hand and we kissed. "I wish we could stay like this from here to eternity." We drank more beer and smoked another cigarette. "You wanna come in my ass?" "No, I wanna come in your ass." We both thought it was funny and found nipples to nibble, tongues that needed exercise, bodies that wanted sex. I bit him hard, he bit me back. We stopped for more beer. The ocean got threateningly closer. "You brought condoms?" "Fuck, I was an eagle scout, I'm always prepared." I kissed his balls and put the chinese puzzle on his dick. I sucked him off, he came, pulled it off and let a wave carry it off to oakland. I stole his beer and threw it down my throat. He raised his ass and I lay between his thighs and penetrated his behind. He let me in easily as always, and slipped into his pleasure-chute.We fucked like men and performed like horses sent to pasture, sent to stud. The water rushed in freezing cold. My passion raised its temperature a miniscule amount. "You fuck like a samurai." "I'm sorry... I'm doing my best," I said as I fucked him like a street-fighter. "Whoaa, there you go again," he said; he was old enough to remember reagan; the anti-christ. I spurted man-stuff into my condom, into him, he clenched tight with his ass-muscles, squeezing hard on my puking cock, buffeted by the surf. Sweet Jesus. "My turn, roll over." "What about the waves?" "So we die." I moved to a doggie position and he got sentimental. He opened up my butt and slipped in the tip, til I got used to entertaining him, and he slid in further. The ocean had reached my knees but I was oblivious. He pumped and pushed and did all the right things. I came again, before him, spilling my seed in the salt water. He was far from done and continued to fuck my butt. The cave echoed our vocal passion, and we exaggerated the sounds, like kids yelling in a tunnel. The water reached my elbows, and he finally came into his condom and I collapsed and fell under the water and pretended to drown. He pulled me up. "Let's get the fuck outta here." We managed to swim out of the cave and got back to the beach. Our clothes long gone, two naked guys walked up to the top, back to the van. We drove like that back to the city. We snuck into the house and he loaned me some clothes.He cooked up a spagetti from leftovers in the fridge. He's weird, he loves italian food.