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By Chris Carr
Copyright © July, 2001
First time I saw him, standing among the stalls I thought, “if only.” Frequent this place often, always in search of boy trade. Sometimes you get lucky but, more than not, you go home empty.
Niggas on the downlow, terrible combination. Shifty eyes, meeting but not committing, that keep you looking. Around the shelves of videos we play, a game old as time. And all the while, you keep your real intent suppressed because the worst impression is desperation.
He looked at me as I entered, looking away the moment he noticed interest. So between the stalls I wandered, the film boxes as old as the game.
Why do we play like this? Why only late at night, when everyone else is fast asleep?
Our eyes meeting again, I thumb my head up, hoping he’ll bite. He casually moves behind a stall, causing me to conclude, not tonight.
Silky smooth, butter brown skin with hair that’s short and curly. Eyes that peer at me from behind a glass, evidently thick enough to punctuate his stigmatism. Hands in pockets, doing what, I can only imagine. Playing me on a string like a cat with a mouse.
Enough of this shit, I quibble, gettin’ my stride on as I defiantly exit. Ain’t no nigga worth me chasing, but I know my hearts gone, despite my resistance.
Outside, into the cool night air I walk, wondering if he’ll follow. Ten minutes later I accept, twas only wishful thinking…. if only.
I light up a stogie, my sole immoral vice, the acrid smoke biting on my tongue. Standing beside my car, I look about the parking lot, cars entering and brothas circling.
“Wassup b? What you doin’ out this time of night?”
“Just chillin’.” The typical response.
Once I met a brotha, creepin’ on the downlow, who informed me he’d left his lady sleeping at home. Two in the morning, and this foine ass brotha is out creepin’, his lady unaware.
Around the block I circle, searching passing cars for a likely candidate, my heart still back at the store. As I park, another young brotha, casually saunters by.
“Yo, wassup?” I call.
“You got it, b.”
“So where you headin’?”
“Just out chillin’, playa.”
It’s all a pretense because I still can’t shake the vision inside. I jot down the brotha’s number, informing him I’d call, but I’m just killing time, trying to decide if I should just jet and give it all up. Blowing another plume of pungent smoke, I chance upon my dream, casually passing the car.
My heart pounding, I order myself to keep it cool.
“Yo, wassup,” I call, hoping against hope. He looks around, as if I might be addressing someone else, then finally approaches.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice low and subtle.
“So what you up to?”
“Just hangin’. How ‘bout you?”
I can hardly speak, gazing upon his angelic face, the game afoot. Like graceful gazelles upon the Serengeti, we engage, each cautious as we dance. He wanders over to the driver’s side, peering into my window, temperature rising.
“Just chillin’,” I return, beholding his cherub face. “You look mighty young,” I indicate.
“Yeah? How old you think I am?”
“18?”
“Actually,” He says, with an air of mystique, “I’m 17. I’ll be 18 in ‘bout 6 months.”
“Yo! How you was in that store?”
“They ain’t knowing." Subtly, he perches on the window seal.
“So what brings you out, this time of night?” I venture, glancing at my watch.
“Just needed to get out the house.”
“Yeah, where you stay?”
“Few blocks from here.”
I gaze at him, captivated, my mind still trying to accept, I’m actually talking to him. Cars are hovering, circling the block intentionally now. Something about a real connection just draws the prowlers.
“How ‘bout you?” He asks, staring at me.
“’Bout 10 minutes from here. Up on Vermont and Imperial.”
“Oh yeah, I know where that’s at.”
“So…. Whadaya say? Wanna kick it?”
“Whoa playa,” he chuckles, looking at me skeptically. “I don’t even know you.”
“Oh? So what you wanna know?”
“Well, what’s your name, for starters?”
“Carlton,” I say, extending my hand.
“Marques,” he returns, sliding his rough hewn hand into mine.
“A’ight.”
I puff a couple times on my eroding cigar, blowing the smoke away from him as more cars pass, some boldly slowing to observe. Crazy thing about it is, a few minutes ago I couldn’t have gotten the time of day from any of these playa haters.
“Saw you talkin’ to that older guy,” I disclose.
“Yeah, he was tryin’ to get at me.”
“Figured he was your type,” I probe, hoping my older age isn’t a turnoff.
“Yeah, he was cool, but I wasn’t feelin’ it.”
“You… into older guys?”
“Pretty much.”
Play it cool, Carlton. “Don’t find that a lot.”
“Actually,” He says, leaning closer, “I prefer someone older than me.”
My heart is beating, rat-a-tat-tat, but I’m playing it cool, trying not to let on. “So how old are you, and be honest?” He asks, his face close to mine.
“Man, you don’t wanna know,” I nervously reply.
“Naw, com’on, b. I told you my age.”
“How old you think I am,” I hedge. He sizes me up, replying,
“You look ‘bout 39.”
“You really generous,” I say, encouraged. “I’m 45, li’l man.”
“You look good though. You look younger.” I’m flattered.
A brotha saunters by, slowing to observe as he heads for his car. The circling traffic has lightened for the minute but that’s only temporary, I’m sure.
“You the one got it goin’ on,” I retort, gazing into his glasses covered eyes. “You got the cutest, round face.”
He’s noticeably moved by my comment and I’m surprised. Why would a cute little thing like this be touched by comments from a man old enough to be his daddy?
“All that pretty, smooth skin. Makes me melt, wondering what the rest would look like,” I continue, daring to caress his exposed arm. He retracts a fraction, obviously affected now. Glancing distractedly up the street he returns, a smile on his face.
“Yeah, like your game,” He acknowledges, leaning back in. “You pretty smooth. So what you into?”
“Whatever,” I allow.
“Yeah, but what you after?” he says, his hand casually strumming up my arm.
“Same thing you after,” I reply, chills running up my arm. “So why don’t we get outta here?”
“Not yet,” he taunts, openly stroking my arm now.
A car passes, the guy peering at us as he slows, then guns away, only to be replaced by another. It’s a risky game we’re playing the neighborhood residential.
“You know, you got the sexiest lips,” I comment. “Wonder…” and then, on sheer impulse, I reach up and kiss him, gently. He moans softly, returning my gesture, the fires leaping higher.
“You been wantin’ to do that, huh?” He says, his gaze sultry now.
“Since I first saw you.”
“Yeah, you smooth,” he reiterates, gazing longingly at me.
We chit chat a little longer, desire rampantly raging through me like a runaway virus and then, Marques leans into the car and plants a long wet one on me. Cars are passing, some avidly slowing, and I’m in heaven, a little cutey on my lips.
“Like that?” he whispers, pecking me softly again.
“Like butta baby.”
“But you still ain’t answered my question.”
“What’s that?”
“What you do?”
“What we’re doin’ now is nice.”
“Uh huh…” caressing my chest now. “And?”
“I’m a lover, b,” I relate. “I like a lot of holding and touching and gettin’ mellow with it.”
Marques glows, biting his lower lip as he leans into the car to kiss me again.
“Man, you got to stop that,” I leer, glancing anxiously about the street.
“You want me to stop?” He taunts, kissing me again. I chuckle nervously, every fiber of my being crying out, no!
“But we on the street, b. All these people goin’ by, watchin’.”
“Ain’t nobody ‘round,” he counters, motioning at the temporarily quiet street.
I want to leave. To have him in my bed, his naked body next to mine, kissing till the dawn, but it looks like tonight, it’s his game and I foolishly play along. His sultry eyes gazing into mine, he moves in for another long passionate kiss. I hear a car passing again, but for the moment, my world is Marques.
Our tongues entwine, his mouth sweet, as I try to comprehend the guilty pleasure of me with this boy, openly affectionate on a public street. Part of me is so removed, I can hardly appreciate it and part of me can’t hold back, giddy with indiscretion. What’s the odds, a man my age, stumbling upon something this young… this sweet… this cute, this time of the night? Add to that the realization, that among all the niggas, openly desiring the youth’s attention, he ended up with me and it was the stuff fairy tales were made of.
Darting his tongue within my mouth, I feel the growth, extending in my pants. Without reservation, we are interlocked, the onlookers be damned. Warm, heady sensation of his eager, young tongue, probing my mouth and then, finally, we break, both breathless.
Between our passion filled chatter, we continue this way, a kiss here, a peck there. I’m anxiously drawn, his kisses sweet, still, as the adult, I realize, this is risky.
“So you still not up to droppin’ by my pad?” I mention at one point.
“I can’t,” he sighs, his look forlorn.
“You don’t…. trust me?”
“It’s not that. I just…”
Another car passes, the man looking at us with lust. “Then… can we at least go somewhere besides here?” I petition.
“Like…” kiss “where?” peck.
“Another street that’s maybe a little more secluded?” Marques gazes at me, contemplating, then looks up the street.
“I’ll get my car,” he acquiesces, “but first…” he adds, leaning close “I just have to have…” another passionate, deep kiss, “some more,” he sighs. “You got the best kiss.” He looks at me one last time then walks toward a luxury car, no doubt his parents, firing up the alarm as he approaches.
I start my car and we jet down the street, far away from the maddening throng. This truly is a unique experience, I think, his car trailing mine. I’d never had a case where the guy was so reluctant to just come to my house. But this boy was young and I suppose he had his reservations. After all, he’d classified himself ‘bi’ when I asked. So weird, I concede, parking at a secluded park.
Marques joined me, settling into my front seat, that sultry, look of desire still upon his cute face.
“You got nice hands,” I account, placing his in mine. He gazes at them, as if surprised by my comment. Though they are rough, they still have an attractiveness to them, his fingers long and delicate.
“What you doin’ to me?” He implores, his voice heavy with desire.
“Ain’t me.”
“Can I…. I need…” and I kiss him again, this time more ardently than before.
He moans, melting beside me, his defenses weakening. If this is the way he wants it, then so be it, I relent, running my hand across his panting chest.
“Ooh, baby,” he sighs, nuzzling my ear.
"Boy, I haven’t done this since high school," I scold, the car heating up. Marques smiles, his countenance aglow , my every touch provoking a shiver now. Unbuttoning his shirt, I move slowly down his neck, arriving at his exposed chest. Gently laying soft kisses on first his right, then his left nipple, I accept my predicament, surrendering to the crazy notion.
Marques sighs with each peck, as I pull his shirt open and out from his pants. His chest lain bare, he shivers as I continue my ministrations.
“Ahhh… Carlton,” He shudders, suddenly pushing me away. “No…”
Softly, I run my finger across his sensitive nipple and he weakens again. Leaning towards me, he begrudges another kiss, our tongues dueling. Slipping my hand across his soft, supple stomach, then between his legs, I discover his excited condition, a cry escaping him.
Despite himself, he spreads his legs, raising his rigid tool against my hand. “Ahhh…” he gasps, gazing at me as I palm him. He’s still trying to fight his feelings, but desire is slowly winning out. Before he can recover, I bend to draw his tender nipple into my mouth.
“Oooh, Daddy,” He coos, his hands caressing my head.
Swirling my tongue about his hardening bud, I slip my hand inside his pants, searching among the undergarments for his prize. When I chanced up grasping it, he moaned, thrusting his hips upwards into my clutch.
Bucking wildly, it was a task, keeping up, but my hand never released him. Pulling me to him, he kissed me with fervor as I stroked his hard length. Whimpering, he thrust his hand into my pants, seizing my throbbing member in turn.
Our heads turning, side to side, we kissed like two lust driven animals, our hands slipping up and down each other’s leaking instruments. Gyrating and bucking about, Marques thrust his pulsing length against my hand until finally, in a move that surprised me, he tore away, diving between my legs.
Clawing at my pants, he ripped them open, exposing my towering erection, then slammed his mouth hungrily down its length. His mouth wickedly delightful, he sucked earnestly, grunting lewdly, those billowy lips about my growth, urging me closer and closer.
I reached between his legs again, unbuckling his pants. His dick jutted from its confinement into the night, uncomfortably hard. Spreading his sticky juices about, I stroked him, eliciting ardent groans from his suctioning mouth.
Doubling his efforts, he swirled his tongue about, ramming his mouth down my entire length in return. I shuddered, my body edging dangerously close. His mouth was incredible, slipping lustily about my girth, pushing me further.
Glancing at his painfully hard swell, I noted that the boy’s balls were taut, begging to burst. With swift movement, I stroked up his column, bumping across his extended ridge, encircling his engorged head. Marques moaned, his voice vibrating around my dick and then I felt it leap within his mouth.
Yelping, Marques locked down on my dick as it spat, his own dick vaulting. In seconds, he was all shivers, his dick standing extra hard, then it delivered, hot, sticky cum ejecting in huge loops about his stomach.
He bucked and I quivered, our dicks releasing the night’s tension. Marques never let go, his mouth still snapped tight around my squirting member. Whimpering softly, he held on as his dick fired round after round, until finally we were both drained.
Sitting slowing up, he beheld the mess, trailing down his body, commenting,
“See what you made me do?”
Kissing me softly, he cooed, “You got the sweetest kisses."
“More where that came from,” I replied, pecking him gently in return.
“I know, but I….”
“Can’t,” I finished for him.
He cleaned up, using a towel I have conveniently stored beneath the seat, exiting quietly, the fond youth of my dreams walking out of my life forever, leaving me with only a sweet memory and a heart that won’t forget.
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