<<The Park BBS>>
Copywrite 1986
UNEMPLOYMENT
by Mystery Guest
I have had more than a nodding acquaintance with the unemployment
beaurocracy in the past. In fact I have come to think of it as my
second career (at times, my first). It was a cold Wednesday in
January. The snow had long since given up any attempt at being a
cheerful white and had retreated into the gutter to form small
islands known as City Snow. You know, the kind that is almost
black from being encrusted in weeks worth of city air. It looked
like it would last well into mid-July. Nothing short of a blow
torch would budge it. Winter was in high gear. My coat doesn't
prove much of a barrier to the wind. It seeps in like a water to
a sponge, from the top and bottom, front and back. People hurry
by in the traditional shoulders hunched posture of winter,
keeping their eyes fixed on the pavement directly in front of
their feet. Does hunching your shoulders make you warmer? It
must, otherwise why would people do it?, Never seems to work for
me though.
As I arrive at the unemployment office for my bi-weekly check
signing ritual I am greeted by a line that seems to stretch to
infinity. I groan. I unpackage myself and am resigned to spend
the better part of the afternoon on line. Fortunately I have
brought a book for just such an eventuality. Unfortunately it
isn't War and Peace. I am surrounded by smokers. It's inevitable.
I hate cigarettes. Whenever I'm on any line, or in any theater,
the smokers will somehow manage to arrange themselves around me
in such a strategic manner as to insure oxygen starvation within
30 minutes and reduce visibility to 3 inches. However I wasn't
going to let the inconsiderate bastards win. I have my strategy
all planned out. Even though I have neglected to bring fog lig
hts I know I can find the counter if I follow the trail of orange
glows and listen for the words, "sign here". My strategy of
reading straight through this ordeal is in trouble however.
Somehow I manage to finish several chapters but after glancing up
for the fiftieth time I realize I haven't the slightest idea what
I read.
My mind begins to wander. I must have had a dazed expression on
my face as my eyes wandered across the room (what I could make
out of it). Men. Many of them young. Construction workers between
jobs, military men just out of the service, drivers, mechanics,
government workers. Every one with a different story. Different
background, different motivations but the same needs. Money,
food, shelter, clothing. Sex. The sexual energy was palpable if
one tuned to the right frequency. Men. Out of work. Restless,
tense, strained, looking for satisfaction, fulfillment, release.
I could see the sparks jumping from the slim lean hips overthere.
There's an amazing basket behind tight black jeans on that one. I
notice an Asian fellow in front of me. My eyes follow him as he
approaches the information counter. I become hypnotized by the
motion of his firm perfect buns as he walks away and imagine my
hands touching them. He stops for a moment, my eyes linger. Then
he is gone. I try to imagine these men behind closed doors,
spreading their legs luxuriously bringing their hand to their
crotch......
The slight bulge between the legs of that Puerto Rican with wavy
jet black hair, do I see a firmness there, pushing, moving,
searching for a more comfortable position as he shifts from one
leg to the other? I watch the dance a little longer; a little
hint of an outline here, a suggestion of a shape there. My eyes
travel up along the buttons on his shirt. The top two are undone.
Why isn't he wearing an undershirt? Isn't he cold? The firmness
of his belly and chest are apparent through the material. Our
eyes meet. My heart skips a beat. I shift my gaze but don't look
away. I notice he continues to look my way. My heart beats
faster, by breathing becomes shallow. I realize my desire is
becoming to obvious and shift the coat that I was holding to
cover my crotch. Had he noticed? How could he not have? The
excitement of cruising is walking that thin line between
revealing to much and to little; playing with the subtle dance of
two energies trying to sence eachothers properties. Knowing when
to look away, when to disengage, when to leave the option of
leading to your partner can mean the difference between dancing
all night and going home alone. The uncertainty of the outcome
makes a connection that much more satisfying. Had I misstepped?
Had I crossed over an invisible line? Was he looking at me in
anger or responding to my interest?
I try to remain casual while my heart was racing. The snaking
line crept along. As we get closer and closer to each other I get
more and more uncomfortable. I don't look at him as we pass. Now
he is behind me and I am relieved to have an opportunity to
regain my composure. I feel the whole room must be watching the
drama. We pass eachother twice more, the last time just brushing
as we pass. Was that a faint smile on his lips. I reached the
counter first and pray they wouldn't send me to unemployment
limbo known as C section, in which people have been known to
vanish and never be heard from again. I must have been tense
because the clerk told me it wasn't necessary to engrave my name
just sign it. Everybody's a comedian. As I left the counter I can
see him but he can't see me. There were maybe ten in front of
him.
For some people cruising is as casual as going out for the Sunday
paper. I am not one of those people. For me it's high drama. I'd
passed up too many opportunities in the past, which I later
regretted. I was determined not to add to that list. I stationed
myself by the door so that he couldn't leave without my seeing
him. Seconds passed; minutes. I shift nervously. What could be
taking so long? Oh no, maybe they sent him to C section. Suddenly
there he is. He hasn't seen me yet. I go to the first door and
hold it for him. He notices me. As I hold the second door I pause
for a moment. His hand brushes across my ass as we exit. Our eyes
meet. Sunlight splashes across his face. As it glances across his
skin I notice the beautiful smooth olive luster, like finely
crafted and polished wood. The catchlights swim in the deep brown
pools of his eyes. I catch my breath. "Hi", I smile. He smiles
back. "Hi". "Boy, what a line, I thought we'd never get out of
there", I begin brilliantly. "Yeah what a line, something huh?",
he matches my brilliance.
We begin the process of feeling each other out (as opposed to
up)." My name is John." "I'm Jose." "You from around here?", I
enquire. "Nah, I live on Grand St., over the bridge, where you
from"? "I'm in Queens, near Forest Hills". "And they send you all
the way to Brooklyn"? "I think they send you to the farthest one
just so you won't get to like it to much", I try to be amusing.
"Nah, they wouldn't do that". It quickley becomes apparent we
won't be discussing Nietzsche over tea and crumpets this evening.
Perhaps his talent lies in another direction. As we walk down the
street we exchange work and personal backgrounds. I was surprised
to find out he was in the navy. Just what I've always wanted: a
sailor. "It was real interesting.I went all over the world.
Remember that bombing in Beiruit? I was on one of the ships they
sent in." I try open ended questions to test his response. "Is it
true what they say about sailors?" "Yeah, well that depends on
what they say, some of it is". I get bolder, "Can't have much of
a sex life on board ship I guess." "Well you'd be surprised", is
his only response.
As we walk aimlessly and talk we start to relax. Our hands brush
and our shoulders bump, I'll touch his shoulder to make a point
and he'll touch me. Our eyes meet often. We walk close together.
I glance at his body admiring the outline of his firm ass. He
keeps the zipper of his coat half way up and the top buttons on
his shirt are still open. The wind thoughtfully flaps his shirt
opened and closed to reveal small hard brown nipples standing out
on his broad smooth chest. I resist the strong urge to take one
of them in my mouth.
I can just make out the shape of his ribs and the gentle waves of
muscle on his stomach. As a train roars by on the elevated tracks
above us I pause to look in a store display. He follows me and
stops just behind me and to my left. I can smell his sweet breath
and feel it on my neck, and the warmth of his leg and hip pressed
my thigh. We stay that way for endless seconds. I turn slowly. We
face eacholP;)?His breathing is more obvious. His eyes flash. In
that moment we understand eachother, our destination becomes
clear. Now for the logistics.
As we resume walking I try to stear the conversation in a more
productive direction. Burned out tenement shells stand against
the orange glow of sunset as we turn the corner. The last shining
spikes of fire peirce the ruins and shoot out through gaping
holes where once were windows. With each step new sparks appear
and vanish, flashing like broken glass. The wind blows our words
down the street and into the gutter with the empty coffee cups
and plastic wrappers. Darkness descends and the streetlights wink
on. We walk together in silence for a while. "Starting to get
cold. Hey, ya doing anything tonight, Jose"? "Yeah, I got a date
with the President". "Think he'll mind if you're late?" "Nah,
he'd rather go fuck Nancy anyway" We laugh out loud together,
acknowledging our mutual predicament of endless supplies of
unproductive time on our hands, and fear of an uncertain future.
We drive to my house in the silence of mutual understanding. He
asks me to stop at a McDonalds for a bite to eat. The thought of
doing so repulses me, but I pull in anyway. I decline to join him
saying,"It's against my religion, I'll just wait here". "You
Jewish"?, he says. "No - healthy, I like health food", I say,
hoping to keep the explanation as short as possible. Through the
plate glass I watch him bring up the rear (literally) as the line
he's on slowly creeps along toward the robotic counterperson. The
image of my lips on his firm round nipples keeps recurring. His
order seems to take forever. My desire for him is becoming more
insistent. But finally he emerges carrying his (the thought
amuses me) two all beef patties and special sauce. Soon I'll be
filling his order. At a stop light I ask, "Ever do it with a guy
on ship"? The question makes him uncomfortable and he becomes
evasive. "Oh well, ya know sometimes ya just gotta do something
or ya go crazy. Sometimes it's a couple of weeks before ya see
land. I hear a lot about that stuff going on but I don't see
much. You can find it if ya know where to look though". I'll bet
I know where to look. I feel the pants at my crotch expanding. I
think he notices as he glances over. Suddenly I get angry at the
driver whose been ahead of us for the last fifteen minutes.
"C'mon shithead, let's go". I regret betrayQneke impatience as I
jab the accelerator with my foot and jerk the wheel to the right
to pass the coma victim. I glare at him as I shoot by. Jose offer
me some fries and I take a few for public relations purposes.
"Well here we are", I say as I pull into the driveway, "the Taj
Mahal. I think it's safe to go in, the tours have ended for the
day. Sure hope the servents remembered to clean up". "Must be a
bitch being rich", he says. "Murder". I hold the door for him as
we enter and catch his clean sent as he goes by. We sit at the
kitchen table, he moping up the the ketchup with the remaining
fries and I munching on a rice and buckwheat dish I had in the
fridge for just such an occasion. "Do you like that stuff. Looks
kinda tasteless", he offers. Determined to do an end run around
that conversation I counter with, "Feel like some TV? C'mon,
let's see what's on". He grabs my arm as I get up and I sit back
down. He pulls a joint from his pocket holds it in front of his
face, suddenly very serious and asks, "Wanna toke"? My focus
shifts between the joint and his eyes. I notice his long curved
lashes for the first time as his eyes are fixed on mine and
debate with myself whether to take up his offer. Normally I
avoid drugs of any kind but a chance to fulfill a fantasy doesn't
come along very often and, I decide, this time caution takes a
back seat to passion. "Sure let's go in here." He follows me to
the couch.
I turn on the TV. Jose has already lighted the joint. As I sit on
the opposite end of the couch watching him put it to his lips I
can feel the excitement and anticipation start to build. He
inhales deeply, strains to keep from coughing and offers the
joint to me as the twisted ropes of smoke curl toward the
ceiling. Almost before the smoke hits my lungs they are on fire.
My head is spinning and my heart starts pounding in my chest
while I strain to hold it in. I hand back the lethal cigarette
with tears in my eyes the steam explodes from my lungs in
coughing spasms. Jose is amused. He smiles the knowing smile of
an expert acknowledging the foibles of a novice. Slowly he gets
up, walks over, sits down next to me and says "I'll show you how
it's done". He watches me steadily for a moment, then slowly,
deliberately takes a long deep toke, leans over me and presses
his lips to mine. I am helpless to resist. My mouth opens and the
hot passion of his lungs erupts into mine. My heart is racing.
Our lips glide past oneanother and my tounge finds his. I put my
right hand behind his head and my left on his ass. I pull him
closer and feel his dick moving, pressing hard against me through
his jeans.
We race to remove our clothes. I watch his uncut hardon pop out
as he removes his briefs. He wins the race and helps me come in a
close second. Quickly we are in eachothers arms pressed closely
together kissing deeply. I want all of him all at once and can't
decide where to start. My lips slide over his neck. As my hand
slowly closes over his full dick he sighs. I take his tight
almost hairless balls in my mouth and release them several times.
My tounge slides up and down his thick shaft. I want badly to
take it in my mouth but resist. He arches his back and moans
lightly. I feel the strength of his hard dick as my fingers close
around it and lightly stroke it. I lean back and watch his solid
smooth powerful body respond. My lips close delicately around his
hard firm nipple and touch it with my tounge as my fingers twist
and massage the other one. "AAHHHHH" he responds, "MMMMMMMMMM"
and starts running his fingers through my hair. I work on the
other one as I lay on top of him feeling his dick pressing and
rubbing against my belly. My hand travels over his body savoring
the smoothness and tightness of his skin beneath my fingers.
He suddenly gets up and pushes me down on the bed. He straddles
me on his knees and starts slowly stroking himself. I know what
he wants. I want him inside me. I want him to fuck me, bad. I
reach over to the drawer and get a rubber, rip open the package
(hoping I hadn't damaged the contents in my haste) and handed it
to him. He pauses, looks at it, frowns but with my assistance
puts it on. I am more excited as I watch it unroll slowly on his
rock hard shaft that stands out straight on his flat belly like a
nail on a board. I get the cream from the drawer and hand it to
him. He knows what to do. As we kneel facing eachother he puts
the lube on his finger, touches it to my asshole and starts to
massage it slowly and his finger slips in. I inhale sharply. I
want him inside me desperately. I take his dick in my hand, move
closer and rub it against my asshole. He pushes me down again,
almost roughly. I raise my legs and put them on his shoulders. He
puts some lube on his sheathed cock, presses it against my hole
and gives a little shove. I gasp from the pain, put my hands on
his hips and ask him to withdraw. I breath deeply for a few
moments. He waits, not sure what to do. "Slow", I say, "OK"? We
try again. He applies gentle firm pressure this time. Slowly the
head of his dick enters. "You OK"?, he asks. "Yeah, you got it".
He pushes and I watch his thick brown cock slide completely into
me until the bush of his curly pubic hair is pressed against my
balls.
The first few strokes are uncomfortable and I ask him to go slow
but gradually I relax and he moves more freely. I take his hand
and put it on my nipple. As he starts to rub, press and twist my
tit, through half closed eyes I look into his, put my hands on
his ass and guide him in and out. He understands what I want and
starts shoving harder and deeper still watching my eyes for
response. I watch the muscles on his legs and stomach ripple and
move, and his balls swing with each plunge. The cream is lying
next to me. On an impulse I put some on my middle finger and
without warning press it up into his asshole. Judging by the
look of surprise and his frantic pleading expression on his face
no-one had ever done this to him before. He starts to protest but
doesn't and begins pumping harder, firmer, more deliberately. At
the same time my finger probes the soft inside of his asshole. I
love watching his cock plunge in and out, his firm washboard
belly pounding against my hips. "OOOOO, yeah, that's nice, yeah,
you're doing real good Jose, ahhhhhhh", I encourage him. To break
the tempo I urge him to slow down, but he won't. He becomes wild.
His strokes become quicker and shorter. His eyes glaze, his
tounge sticks out and he starts breathing in rasps, making a
sound from his throat with each quick thrust, "UH, UH, UH". "You
like when I stick my finger in your asshole"?, I move my finger
for emphasis. He responds with a grunt and more frantic
movements, then stops fucking for a moment and presses his ass
down on my finger. He moans when I finger fuck him. Suddenly I
feel his ass tighten and he starts fucking with shorter quicker
strokes and louder more desperate groans. I stroke my dick to
match his rhythmn and feel the heat beginning to rise. His
asshole closes around my finger in spasms and I plunge it in
deeper. He lets out three or four loud gasps, "AH, AH, AH, AH". I
grab Joses ass tightly and pull him into me as he watches my cum
start spilling out over my belly and chest. I see only his hard
smooth dark body pressed against mine as I gasp for air.
He withdraws slowly and we fall together exhausted. After cleanup
operations we lay in eachothers arms, motionless, for many
minutes, neither of us wanting to move. I turn to him, kiss his
forhead and draw my fingers lightly across his smooth olive
cheek, which in the dim light looks almost black. He runs his
fingers through my hair and gently kisses me on the lips. I
shiver. Suddenly I'm cold. I pull the blankets up to our chins
and we close our eyes. Good night sweet prince, wherever you
are.