Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2001 19:15:21 0000 From: M R E <kingdomgone@angelfire.com> Subject: Sketch "SKETCH" by J. Story Copyright 2001 by J., KingdomGone@Angelfire.com ---------- Disclaimer: You should pretty well know whether or not you should be reading this. If you're too young -or sensitive- to be reading pornographic depictions of male/male sexuality, then stop reading. Send any and all feedback to KingdomGone@angelfire.com ---------- It's a physical art. Art that requires you move your body in a dance of rhythm that may be coming from a stereo, and it may be coming from your heart. You have to follow it, though. You have to stay true to it as your paint spreads over the concrete or brick, a thin mist from a twelve ounce can. It smells good, reassuring. And that's what we were doing, dancing a sketch on the wall, rocking a building that stood a hundred feet tall. I don't know how we worked together, but we'd been doing it together for so long I'm not sure we could even do it alone. It wasn't like lines on a sketch pad, it wasn't like we had a picture in our head. We had a picture in our hands and we worked together to create it. It was a picture of a shirtless skater stretched unrealistically across the entire building, and it sang. We were rolling off of it. "Man, this is our best shit, yet." I pause and inhale the fumes and look over to Johnny, the biggest grin emblazoned across his face. I had to agree with him. "You think we're done, now?" he asked. I looked up and down the painting. It was pretty sweet, but it was missing something. "Toss me the silver can, real quick." He tossed it to me, and I pulled the cap off, replacing it with another from my pocket. Caps make all the difference in fine art. The can felt like home in my hand. Squeeze, and a flick of the wrist, and suddenly our skater had a pierced nipple. "Fuckin' A," Johnny said. "Now let's tag it, and get out of here." We both moved over to the lower right hand corner of the wall and pulled two more cans out of our bag, an orange and a dark blue. We started spraying, his lines outlining mine, and we were halfway to our emblazoned initials, a stylized JoMa, when the red and blues started flashing behind our backs. "Fuck," cried out Johnny, "we never get to finish our fucking tag!" But we were already running away from the police cruiser. They always showed up halfway through our tag, and I was beginning to wonder if the street rats would recognize the half-finished symbol as our official tag, rather than the complete one we always striven for. Runnin' from cops is fun, a rush of adrenaline like no other. Yeah, we've done it so many times you'd think we'd be used to it, but the local law isn't too fond of street artists, and gettin' grabbed means gettin' fucked, royally, and not in a good way. So we run, and we run hard. We run through suburban streets and back through people's yards and through the small spurt of trees before you reach the city, and we run down the road some more, and finally we've weaved a maze through so many alleyways that there's no fuckin' way the pigs are ever gonna catch us. Johnny halts himself against a brick wall, and we're both sweaty as hell, and breathing hard. Hard, hard, horny and hard. I can't fuckin' help the boner in my pants, I got so fuckin' excited. Johnny wipes the sweat from his brow and I look into his eyes and he's not even thinking what I am so much as knowing what happens now. What happens now is that I'm pressed against him, against the wall, my tongue forcing it's way into his mouth. His hands are moving frantically on his belt, unbuckling it and moving the button through the hole and dragging the zipper down and I reach my hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his sweaty cock. He groans in my lips and starts working on breaking my own pants open. He gets my cock free and I pull his pants down, and they slide to the ground. He moves his foot out of one of the legs and spreads his legs wide. I wrap my arms around him and pull him up and my dick is rubbing against his crack. He reaches behind him and spreads his cheek and my dick stops at his hole, but not for long because I want inside of him, I need to fucking blow. We're still standing and bouncing and for a moment I wonder if the brick wall is scratching him through his shirt, but I don't care, right now. My cock feels so good inside of him, the walls of his ass slipping and sliding around me. I kiss him some more and I can taste the can of beer we split and the joint we shared before we went to work, and it's exotic in his mouth, with his tongue. I can't explain how it feels to have my cock inside of him, our sweat lubricating, easing the movement between our bodies. He's probably not clean, but neither am I and it feels so fucking good so I just keep pressing inside of him, fucking him like a rabbit. He lifts up my T-shirt and his own cock starts sliding against my sweaty stomach and I press against him harder so it feels better for the both of us. He's leaking pre-cum on my chest like I'm leaking it into his ass, and his cock is slipping from side to side as I hump against him. I feel his insides squeeze around my cock and then he's shooting his fuckload all over my chest, and we're smearing it between our t-shirts. The increased pressure on my cock makes me blow and I can feel each jet of jizz pump into his ass. He smiles like a devil and squeezes harder around me. I stop humping against him and his ass is making waves around my softening dick. I kiss him again, and pull out, his feet touching the ground for the first time since I entered him. I step back and my limp dick bounces against my aching nuts and I stroke it a bit, getting my cum and his sweat on my fingers and I bring it to my lips and start licking at it, and he joins me so we're both standing there licking my hand, and each other. I kiss him hard on the lips and reach down to pull my pants back up. He does the same and his belt's come loose from his pants and he turns around and bends over and I can see my cream leaking from his ass... it's a sight too beautiful to resist, so I lean forward and wrap my lips around his puckered hole, inhaling, sucking in my own cum and his grimy sweat. I feel like I'm in heaven and I slide my tongue inside of him and I know he's feeling it too. Strength, such a strong taste, it tastes so good. He supports himself against the wall as I push my face deeper in his crack, my tongue deeper in his hole. I start to rub my stomach and I smear his cum around. My shirt's wet. Finally I have his ass clean and he pulls his boxer briefs up, then his Kiks, and he turns around and says "So what are we doin' tomorrow night?" -The End- KingdomGone@angelfire.com