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By Chris Carr
I’d met Anthony some time ago through
an online couple’s service. He was pretty cool, not necessarily my type but he
fit the bill for what a thirty something like myself needs in a pinch. I usually
go for the more vulnerable types, you know, the questioning types that just need
an older man to ‘walk them through their first time experience’? Anthony
wasn’t clueless and this certainly wasn’t his first rodeo but he had an ass
to die for and I liked his company.
Sometimes chatty, he happened to be
quiet that night as we approached my apartment, which I thanked my lucky stars
for. Had to be discreet, you know, even if it was 2:30 in the morning. I stay in
an older, courtyard type building which has its advantages and disadvantages.
The disadvantage was clearly on display that night as we approached.
Imagine this: It’s 2:30 am, you’re
horny as fuck and you’re walking to your downstairs unit with a doable hottie
when you notice a bum sleeping on your porch! Well that’s what greeted me that
warm summer night as I entered my courtyard.
Incensed, I’m thinking “This tired
assed sucka got a lot of nerve!” Content as ever, he lay curled up in a ball
on my front stoop, and I jumped to conclusions that some derelict had had too
much to drink and crashed on my porch. I’d heard plenty of late night parties
in my neighborhood and it stood to reason this could be a lost partier! Well, he
wasn’t sleeping here! I fumed, storming towards my stoop.
But as I got closer, it became clear
this wasn’t some older man but an obvious young person… maybe even a teen!! What the fuck was going on? I pondered, cautiously
approaching. Oblivious of Anthony behind me, I bent closer to the young form,
trying to discern who it was.
As I peered closer, the face came into
view. Curled up in a ball, his hands folded beneath his head the mystery person
was Alex! Shocked, I tried waking him but he merely stirred then went back to
What the hell was Alex doing on my porch? Quietly joining me, Anthony snickered, “Oh he’s
I’d practically forgot him. Glancing
at him, we gazed at the sleeping youth. “Help me get him up,” I said,
opening the door to my unit. Alex practically under the door, we had to move him
back to open it.
“Get his feet,” I said as I grabbed
his arms. Lifting his light frame from the porch easy, we ferried him inside the
door and onto my couch. My nice, white velvet sofa, where he promptly vomited!
Just blew chunks all on my sofa and my clean carpet until he wretched a second
then to my total disbelief… WENT BACK TO SLEEP!!
I was running to grab towels by then,
desperately slopping up orange and yellow slime from the floor and the line
running down the side of my couch! Anthony helped, holding his nose as he dabbed
at the foul slime. What had this boy eaten? I pondered, scooping up his mess and
throwing it in the garbage. It took us some time to clean it all up, in addition
to moving Alex from my precious couch to the floor. I’d covered it with
plastic, in case he hurled again.
By the time I’d gotten the total mess
cleaned up (I practically had to scrub
the side of my couch with disinfectant!) we were both exhausted. Standing over
the content youth Anthony said, “who is he?” Leading him to the room I
closed the door behind us and we got on the bed.
“This boy I met at Xavier’s
party,” I confessed.
“Uh huh, and?” Anthony was cool so I
told him about how I’d gone to Xavier’s party a couple of months ago where
he’d introduced me to Alex. He’d had a few drinks and had developed a slight
slur but he wasn’t tipsy yet.
Cute as fuck, he was a beautiful half
Puerto-Rican and black youth with sultry, brown eyes, and the sexiest, succulent
lips that I wanted to kiss that very night. He was wandering around, looking
lost, which made him more attractive. Slim and taut he seemed small enough for
me to lift. The entire evening I drooled over him, wishing I could take him
home. Crazy thing, late that night we ended up talking outside Xavier’s place
in my car. That whole conversation I was in a daze, captivated by his kissable
lips and full head of curly hair. I barely heard what he was saying but I
suppose I was helpful because he asked for my number before he left.
“Seems like he had a few
tonight too,” Anthony chuckled. “But what was he doing on your front
“I don’t know,” I replied,
“His ass is knocked out.” I nodded,
looking towards the front room. “Bet he wouldn’t know anything.” I was so
deep in thought about Alex, I didn’t hear Anthony. In fact, with Alex in the
front room, I’d sort of lost my drive for sex. Sort of.
All of a sudden I heard Anthony say,
“Let me fuck him.” Snatched back to reality I did a double take at him.
I’d recently attended a few self-help groups on sex and relationships and,
freak that I was, I’d actually developed a conscience. Hearing Alex so
blatantly talk about violating a boy I hardly knew alarmed me.
“He knocked out, he won’t feel
“Are you crazy?” Rubbing a lump in
his pants, Anthony continued.
“Trust me, that nigga ain’t gonna
feel nothing.” When I hesitated, he quickly added, “Com’on nigga,
you know you want to too!”
Head reeling, all of a sudden a small
part of me was considering it, but only because he’d put it in my head! Wait! We can’t fuck Alex while he was knocked out! I told myself,
trying to hold on to some semblance of my recent recovery. Relentless, Anthony petitioned,
“Com’on Darnell, well then let me
“Nooo!” I finally mustered.
“He won’t feel it,” Anthony
countered, that bulge in his pants noticeable now. “Com’on, you can just
watch,” He prodded, palming that growth in his pants. I’d never considered
Anthony topping anyone and the idea was intriguing. “You know you’re
thinking about it,” He whispered in my ear.
“No, I’m not!” Glancing towards
the door, I sheepishly added, “Until you put it in my mind.” Jumping up,
Anthony was suddenly pulling me by the arm.
“Nigga, com’on. All that ass??”
“That boy ain’t got no ass!” I
countered, hoping to deter him.
“He got enough. And he cute as fuck!
Com’on, let me get some of that ass!”
“No! Sit down!” I demanded, pulling
Anthony back to the bed. “We can’t. He’s just a boy.”
“He legal, ain’t he?”
“I don’t know. I think he’s 18.”
I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t remember it coming up in our conversations.
“Good enough for me!” Pulling on me again, Anthony insisted, “Com’on man, you wasting time. We could be all up in that by now.” Pulling on me once more, he actually got me up. Not that I was putting up much of a fight. That is, until I realized what we were about to do.