Date: Mon, 25 Aug 2003 03:44:40 +0000
From: Bobby Reardon <reardon_930@hotmail.com>
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