A suddenly compliant Paulie bowed his head. I knew it was nothing but a strategic move to lower her defenses. He’d start pawing her again, but she wanted that, anyway. She let Kid Paulie hold her and giggled and squirmed.
“Oh, by the way, Sidney,” she said. “Vinnie is the boy who carried me out of that fire last year in Pips’ building. He lived right next door to Pips,” she added, then brushed Paulie’s arm away as he grabbed at her.
Sidney’s wide eyes looked disbelievingly at me.
“You lived with Mr. Phillips? Amazing!”
“No, no,” I said. “Not with him, just next door. We were neighbors.”
Sissy shrugged. “They could have been living together. They were close friends.”
I glared at her. She didn’t know what the fuck she was saying, the stinking bitch.
“But you knew Mr. Phillips?” Sidney continued. “Wonderful! What a charming, gay fellow he was. I knew him very well, too.” His eyes were dreamy, looking into himself and his memories.
Sissy winked at me. “Gay fellow?” she pondered, “I think all these old birds were gay. They knew each other from the old Greenwich Village days, when they’d jerk off together.” She shrugged and didn’t resist as Paulie moved behind her and stroked her ass. “But it takes all kinds,” she continued, “don’t it? Sidney says he’s bisexual, if there is such a thing, that he can do it with any sex, male or female. I don’t know about that, because male sex is all I ever wanted. But male sex is doing something, not just jerking off at each other. Isn’t that right, Sidney?”
By the time she’d finished her little speech, Paulie was bending her over and shoving his hips behind her. They looked like two fucking dogs. Sissy shrieked and got out of his way.
“You bastard, don’t do that!” she said, fixing her hair and waving Paulie away.
“You little cunt,” Paulie leered at her. “You’re gonna get my hard dick up your ass, just like you begged me all night, you slut.”
Sissy was avoiding looking at me, but I realized I didn’t really care. I loved Sissy the way she loved all the men that came into her life. Fickleness was in the air whenever she was around, fickle sexual playfulness. You get what you can from her, then you go off to another. That’s the way things are in this era of free love. Relationships are easy as pie, all you have to do is watch out for any pips.
I laughed. Pips! Just what we’d called Mr. Phillips!
“What’s so funny, you bastard?” Sissy glared at me, shoving Kid Paulie off her again.
I smirked to myself.
“You should introduce him to Big Daddy. He has something big enough for both of you.”
Sissy’s eyes widened.
“Hey, that’s right,” she said, leering at Paulie. “Wait till you meet Tonya for real! Her big boobs will knock the shit out of you! They’re whoppers!”
Kid Paulie stared open-mouthed as she winked at us, pulled Paulie after her and left the park, catching a cab. I assumed they were going to Greenwich Village, where they’d find Big Daddy just waiting for them. I smirked. Wonder how Kid Paulie will take it up the ass?
“That girl is silly,” Sidney said, shaking his head as he watched them go. “I don’t know what anyone sees in her. All that nutty action leads nowhere.” We studied each other. “So you knew Mr. Phillips? He was a very nice man.”
“Yes, I did,” I said, feeling myself turn a bit red. “But we called him ‘Pips.’”
He waved that away. “‘Mr. Phillips’ is more respectable.”
“You know, ‘pips.’ They’re the seeds in apples, oranges, melons, and other fruity fruits.”
He looked at me, smiling. He shook his head slowly. “I used to like fruity fruits, just like Mr. Phillips.”
“Heard he was a teacher. Is that true?”
Sidney nodded.
“I used to like him, too,” I said. “He was a nice old man,” I lowered my head and looked at Sidney through my lashes. “One of the best I’ve ever had.”
“What do you mean, you had him?” he said right away. “Explain.”
I cleared my throat. If he knows Sissy, he must know a lot of things about her. Might as well find out. “Well, I used to get together with old Pips and we used to, um, satisfy ourselves.” I looked around and, not seeing anyone, I whispered, “He was always jerking off. I suppose he was addicted to it.”
His eyes widened.
“Why, I did that many a time, with him doing the same. Him looking at me, me looking at him. And we wouldn’t even touch each other.”
I nodded my head eagerly. My penis was stiff in my leggings, but covered by my jeans.
“Yes, sir,” I said, nodding my head vigorously. “That’s exactly how I had him, too.”
“Really? You and Mr. Phillips?” he said, studying at me.
I nodded.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Phillips and I, also. But, alas, there’s no one I can do that with any more. Those days are over,” he said, looking down at my crotch. I shifted slightly, my erection seeming to have gotten bigger. Boy, I loved those leggings!
“Sometimes, when I’d get home early,” I whispered, “Pips would be waiting for me at the top of the stairs, just jerking off. I’d walk up and do the same. We’d shoot our scum across the landing at each other, then nod and say good night, each going his own way. No touching, no contact, no closeness. Just jerking off, that’s all. And you wanna know something? It was utter bliss!”
By then I was very hard, the feeling in my belly gripping me, and I exploded, cuming into my leggings. A shiver shimmered through me, and I knew there’d be a very wet spot on the leggings. My breathing was shallow.
“Are you all right?” Sidney asked, looking concerned.
“I just shot my scum,” I whispered. “Man, was I hot.”
Sidney frowned, then started talking seriously, as if he was disappointed with me.
“Young man, it’s called sperm, and you just ejaculated your semen. Not ‘shot,’ not ‘cum’ or ‘gook.’ Semen ejaculated from your penis, not from your ‘prick’ or ‘cock.’” He shook his head. “Why you young people persist in using street terms is beyond me.”
Was he mad? I smirked at him. “You sound like a teacher,” I huffed.
“Right you are, young man, like Mr. Phillips. But I was more than just a teacher, I used to be a principal, and I could teach teachers a thing or two. If I put you over my knee, you’ll have to learn, no two ways about it!”
He was angry. “What can you teach me?” I asked. “I think I know enough.”
“Oh, no. No, you don’t. Never say that. Each day you can discover something you didn’t know before, learn from it. Get your mind out of the gutter, it’s worthless down there.”
I looked at him. “But I grew up in the gutter,” I said, looking around the park, at the beatniks and hippies lying on the grass. “All over the Lower East Side. My life is here. This is poetry to me. I don’t need any beatnik or hippie poets telling me about life. The street is very much alive to me.” I looked at him. “It’s there for the taking.” I felt myself starting to blush. “But, hey, don’t listen to me.” I smiled, feeling embarrassed.
He smiled back, calmer now.
“You’re right, this is the living street. Forget what I said. Don’t listen to what an old fart principal has to complain about.” He waved his hand at me.
I felt good sitting on the bench with Sidney. He moved a little closer until our sides were pressed together. He was tall and
I had to look up to see his face. Could he be getting hard, unlike soft, fragile Pips? And Sissy Godiva, what about her? She was quickly receding into my memories. Oh, sure, I’d see her again, but for now, Sidney was beside me. Soon we’d be at his place, each of us doing what he had to do.
“Do you know Mr. Polsky?” I asked. I explained he was the jock coach at my school. He reddened.
“Why? Were you one his jocks?”
“Nah, I wasn’t into that stuff. Just asking.” I smiled wickedl
y at him. “Guess what I got on under my jeans?”
He screwed up his eyes. “Underwear? I’ve no idea. Please tell me.”
I blushed. “Tight women’s leggings. And they’re pink, the girly kind. Makes my butt look real good.”
He looked dreamily at me. “They must hold everything in very nicely,” he blushed. “I’d love to see you in those, yes, I would.”
I smiled back at him. “I’d love to show you,” I said, and I lowered my head to his shoulder, where it felt perfect. He put his arm around me and lowered his head onto mine. A long-haired hippie walked past us, smiled at us and kept walking. I closed my eyes. We sat peacefully like that. The day wasn’t hot, but we were!
I grinned to myself. I really am a queer!
THE END
ABOUT MYKOLA DEMENTIUK A Ukrainian born in West Germany, Mykola (Mick) Dementiuk grew up and survived on New York's tough Lower East Side streets, which are now a bare echo of what they once were. He is the author of Holy Communion (Lambda Awards Winner 2010/Bisexual Fiction), Vienna Dolorosa, Times Queer, and 100 Whores. His other writings in e-book are Dee Dee Day, Variety, The Spice of Life, Murder in Times Square, Times Square…in Brooklyn?, Queers of Central Park, A Sucker for the Circus, Times Square Cutie and Stallers, More Tales of Times Square Cuties, and On the Prowl. Visit his website at mykoladementiuk.com for more information.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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