Graffiti Page 4

  Alan's mouth went dry. He could feel his heart start to race and his cock harden. But he also felt a surge of fear. This was too quick. He had just come to terms with the fact that he was homosexual. He'd never had sex---only those clumsy unsatisfying attempts with Millie that had made him start questioning his sexual orientation in the first place. He wanted it but he wasn't ready for this. He moved his arm away and stood up.

  "Hey, look," he stammered, "I'm not rea..."

  "Oh, sorry. I thought you were here for the same reason I am. You seemed to give me all the signals. Just a word of advice: you straights need to make sure you're on your own turf or you might be in for a surprise."

  The young man turned and walked away. Alan was trembling now, not only from fear but from the explosion of sexual desire produced by the close proximity to actual man-to-man sex. He wanted to call out 'Wait, wait.' But he couldn't. Yet the sight of the man's beautiful body receding down the path aroused him completely. He shuddered and turned back to look at the lake, grasping the top rail of the fence with both hands as if to keep himself from falling in. He tried to think. He couldn't. All that came to mind was the sensation of the man's arm touching his, and not by accident, but because he had wanted to initiate sex.

  After standing and staring out over the water for...he didn't know how long, Alan left the overlook and continued around the circular path back to the parking lot. He half-hoped that when he got there the guy would be sitting on the picnic table waiting for him.

  He wasn't. Both relieved and disappointed, Alan ignored the greeting of a man who stood leaning on the hood of his truck. His shirt was open, he wore a beat up old cowboy hat, and he was rubbing his abs. Without stopping to think of what his actions might imply, Alan went toward the bathroom.

  Alan stood in front of the urinal. Looking straight ahead, he noticed writing on the walls: names, times, dates. Like somebody signing a guestbook at a museum or something, he thought. He knew immediately what the graffiti on the walls meant. His heart started to pound again.

  Finishing and doing up his fly, Alan went to the sink to wash his hands, then turned to leave. As he reached for the door handle it opened and the man who had been leaning on the truck stepped in.

  "Excuse me," Alan said, standing aside to let the guy pass. The man gave him a puzzled look. "What's your hurry?" Alan didn't know what to say. He mumbled something about being there by mistake and stumbled out into the sunshine. Going directly to his car without looking back to see if the man had come out after him, he got in, backed out of his parking space and drove up the drive. Just as he got to the end, he caught sight of the young man who had approached him at the overlook. He was just leaving the park, turning right, walking down Garden Parkway. Alan had a sudden urge to follow. But in the end he looked away, turned in the opposite direction and headed home.

  * * * *

  Alan came in the back door, still trying to regain his emotional balance. Hanging the keys in their customary place, he gave Dusty a scratch when the pup came to greet him and walked into the kitchen.

  "Oh, Alan, dear, you're home. Just in time, too. I'm about to put dinner on the table. Why don't you go wash up and...oh, would you wake your father and tell him it's time to eat?"

  Alan mutely nodded and walked into the family room. He touched his dad's shoulder and mumbled, "Dinner," then continued upstairs to the bathroom.

  As he washed his hands, Alan stared at his reflection in the mirror. You coulda been picked up today, twice, he thought, once by the guy at the overlook and then by the guy by the truck. Maybe even by those other guys you met on the path. This sent his head into a swirl of conflicting emotions.

  Coming back downstairs, he entered the kitchen and sat in his usual place at the table.

  "Are you feeling all right, dear?" his mother asked. "You look a little pale. You're not coming down with something are you?"

  "Ah...no, I'm fine," he said rather vacantly.

  His father looked at him sideways and started to serve himself some food.

  "George, dear." When Alan's mother spoke in that tone, it meant something was happening of which she didn't approve.

  "What?" his father replied, his hand poised in mid air holding a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

  "Shouldn't we return thanks? It is Sunday you know." George sighed, looked at Alan, and shook his head. "Ever since she's been going to that church. All right, woman. God, thanks for the grub! Amen."

  "George!" Martha said, but didn't push any further.

  Alan ate without tasting, responding to the conversation without really listening. His mind was still trying to determine what he would do now that he knew where he could go to...to what? Was he ready to take that next step from acknowledging his sexual need to acting on it?

  "Alan?" he heard his mother asking.

  Alan shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ma, what did you say?" She gave him a confused look. "I asked you where you went today."

  "Nowhere in particular," he said and without thinking added, "Delph Lake Park."

  "Oh, how nice. That's where we used to go for picnics. You rem---"

  "Delph Park!" his dad cut in. "Why the hell would you want to go there? That's where the news said them perverts hang out! Said the cops were gonna set up a sting."

  "Oh, no! George!" Alan's mother exclaimed. "Alan, why on earth would you go there?"

  Alan was taken by surprise. His father knew the park's new reputation when he didn't. Flustered, he managed to say, "Um...like you, I just saw the sign remembered how we used to go there, and went to see what it looked like now. I didn't see anything strange going on," he lied.

  "Well, you be careful. Best you don't get yourself mixed up in anything like that," his father continued.

  "For goodness sake, George," Alan's mother interrupted. "Anyone can see Alan isn't one of them! But just to be safe, dear, I wouldn't go back there again. George, are you feeding that dog under the table again?"

  Alan's dad looked sheepish. The conversation drifted to other topics.

  After dinner Alan sat with his parents and watched Ed Sullivan, or rather he stared at the screen. Feigning tiredness, he went to bed early. He lay on his bed but couldn't sleep. In his head, all he could see was the young man from the overlook. Alan named him Bruce; the guy had to have a name. Alan's hand found its way down to his cock while images of Bruce standing next to him, putting his arm next to Alan's, brought him to full erection.

  Stroking his cock, Alan's fantasy unfolded. He and Bruce were kissing each other, running their hands up and down their backs, cupping their full round butts, fondling their balls and rigid dicks. Bruce took Alan's hand and led him into the trees. There he knelt before him and unzipped his pants. He took Alan's hard prick out of his pants and kissed the tip, but before he could engulf it with his lips, Alan came over and over as if he would never run dry. At the same time he said aloud, "I love you, Bruce!"

  The fantasy over, Alan lay under his cum-soaked sheet, letting the trembling stop and his ragged breathing return to normal. He stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see Bruce, or whatever his real name was, again...needed to see him again. Why hadn't he let something more develop that afternoon?

  What could he do? After a time he made up his mind. He would stop at the park the next morning on his way to work and leave a message in the bathroom. It would say:

  Hey, guy from the overlook yesterday, Can you meet me here tonight? 7:30?

  Then Alan would write the date. What about the police? His dad had said they were planning a sting. Well, he would be careful. He just had to see Bruce...or whoever he really was...again.

  Taking a deep breath with images of Bruce playing on his mind and worries that he wouldn't find the note, Alan fell asleep.

  Chapter 5: The Message

  Sweat was running off Tom's body as he sat on the weight bench in the corner of his small living room. He was between sets of chest presses. As he caught his breath, he planned his day.

  Wish I didn't hav
e that fuckin' poli sci exam this afternoon, he groused. Means I'll have to make my time with John a quickie. That's if he shows. Yeah he'll show, Tom assured himself, smiling as he ran his hands over his pecs which were warm and plumped from the exercise. He wouldn't want to miss gettin' his hands on these. Maybe I can get him to suck my tits, Tom thought, laying back down to start his next set of reps. He gave a small laugh. Ain't no maybe about it. He'll do whatever I ask him to. Horny bastard.

  Lowering the barbell slowly to his chest Tom continued to map out the day. Still need to get the laundry done. I'm totally out of clothes. He breathed out as he pushed the weight back up and locked his elbows. Shit, that means I have to go tonight after I get off work when the old man's home. Down came the weight again. Can't be helped...need some clean clothes. Guess I could take them to the laundry on the corner. Naw, rather have mom do it.

  He finished the set, racked the barbell, got up and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the apartment door. Tom loved looking at himself after his workouts. His muscles were pumped and he looked ripped and sexy. Wish the pump lasted longer, he thought. Don't matter really, a fraction of an inch ain't gonna make no difference to anyone lookin' at me. Tom turned sideways and flexed his bicep, and then extended his arm so the groove in the triceps deepened. He smiled in satisfaction.

  Leaving his reflection, Tom walked to the bathroom, dropping his workout shorts along the way. He turned on the shower and waited until the water heated up. He got in and closed his eyes. As he let the water cascade down his body, he ran his hands sensuously over his chest and arms. Tom felt his cock start to harden in response to the stimulation. Images of John's hairy ass floated into his mind, making him feel a delicious anticipation at plowing that crack again.

  From nowhere another image flashed through his mind: a tall good-looking blond, standing by the overlook, wearing a white polo and a great smile.

  Damn, he was one fine fucker, Tom thought. I was sure he was comin' onto me, givin' me all the right signals. Then he turns out to be some ignorant straight guy in the park by mistake. Sure was nice though. Had a nice butt, nice arms. Chest looked good. Basket full of goodies, too. Wish I had a chance to convert him.

  "Shit!" Without realizing, Tom had been stroking himself and had brought himself to the brink of climax thinking of the mystery man from the previous afternoon. Tom immediately let go of his cock and willed himself not to cum. He closed his eyes tight. He could feel his dick throb and bob up and down involuntarily. The pleasure was exquisite. He was tempted to grab the engorged tool and finish the job, but held off long enough for the waves of stimulation to pass.

  "Easy there, big fella," Tom said, addressing his dick. Then thinking of the upcoming activity of the morning, added, "John, my man...you are gonna get yourself one fine load." He laughed, finished washing, and got out of the shower.

  * * * *

  Tom whistled tunelessly as he made his way down the sunlit drive into the park. Really need to find a way to get myself some wheels, he thought. Fuck, it takes all the money I make workin' part time at the fuckin' bakery to pay for school. Cheap SOB of a father won't cough up the coin just cuz I'm stayin' in school to hide out from the fuckin' draft. Bastard!

  But even thoughts like these that often put a damper on his mood were not enough to break the spell of the wonderful late spring morning and the anticipation of some good sex.

  Tom checked his watch as he came into the parking lot and looked around. Almost ten and no cars. Not to worry. He'll be here.

  Tom went to the bathroom and took a leak. He scanned the messages on the wall behind the urinal and laughed out loud.

  Hey boys. Fat lady here. Want as much cock in my pussy as I can hold at one time. The more the merrier. 555-6969.

  She's got balls comin' in here to leave that shit. Wonder how many takers she'll get from the queers that hang out here?

  As he washed his hands, Tom thought about the note and decided that while sex with a woman was definitely not his thing, having his cock stuffed in there with another guy's dick had a certain appeal.

  He was just about to leave when another message next to the mirror caught his attention.

  Hey guy from the overlook yesterday. Can you meet me here tonight? 7:30?

  Tom stared at the note and then read it again. "Shit!"

  * * * *

  Sitting atop his usual table, Tom was frustrated. Ten to eight, he fumed in his mind. Fuck, I rearrange my whole fuckin' day for this guy and he doesn't show.

  Tom had met John that morning. The man had been horny and hot to trot. They had gone back to the motel. Even though John had sucked Tom's pecs, usually a big turn on, Tom had been distracted by the prospect of seeing the overlook guy again. He knew he hadn't showed John the best time but hadn't given a shit. He'd perfunctorily taken care of business, giving John a quick fuck and getting him off with a half-hearted blowjob. Tom knew John was pissed at him, but Tom knew he wouldn't see him again anyway so it didn't matter. Once was Tom's usual M. O., twice was pretty damn rare and a third round was unheard of.

  Tom had called his boss at the bakery and told him he had a cold. That was a sure-fire way to get out of work. The old guy was really paranoid about getting germs on his precious buns and loaves of bread. He told Tom to take good care of himself and not to come back to work until it was completely cleared up. Tom couldn't afford to miss too much work so he'd tell the old man he had allergies and it had turned out not to be a cold after all.

  Tom had probably failed his political science test. What the hell was it about this guy? he'd asked himself, that he could upset Tom Clarkson's plans. When sexy Professor Barry had said time was up, Tom hadn't even finished the last question as he found himself staring out the window thinking about the overlook guy's sweet smile and tight, sensual ass.

  Tom checked his watch again. I even pass up two hot tricks here tonight for the bastard. Two very handsome hunks had approached Tom and suggested they'd really be up for including him in a three-way. God damn! Why did I pass that up?

  "Screw this," Tom said, getting up. Maybe I can find those two guys and get in on that action so the day won't be a total bust.

  As he turned to head for the path into the woods, Tom saw a red Mustang pull slowly into the parking lot. He waited. If this was overlook guy he'd let him know that you didn't fool around with Tom Clarkson if you wanted to get it on with him. The car door opened and the man he'd been waiting for tentatively emerged. Tom stood with his hands on his hips getting ready to give the guy a piece of his mind.

  The man approached. "Hi. I'm really sorry I'm late. I had to work overtime and..."

  Tom opened his mouth, but what came out surprised him. "That's okay. You're here now and that's all that matters."

  Who the fuck said that? Tom thought as he looked into the soft warm brown eyes staring into his. He felt his dick twitch and some other sensation that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time stole over him.

  "I'm Alan Daniels," the man said and offered his hand.

  "My name's Tom," Tom said and then realized he had, for the first time in a long time, given his name to someone with whom he planned to have sex. But somehow that didn't seem to matter. He took Alan's hand and enjoyed the feelings the first physical contact engendered.

  "Let's go," he said, still holding onto Alan's hand and turning to head for the path into the woods.

  Alan dropped Tom's hand. "Um...could we maybe talk for a bit first?"

  Tom turned and looked at him. Virgin, he thought. As a rule Tom wasn't into breaking in those new to the game but he seemed to be breaking a lot of his rules when it came to this guy. "Uh...okay, sure," Tom said and headed back to the table. "Not here, please. I...uh...heard from someone that they said on the news that the police were planning a sting or something."

  Tom laughed, "Yeah, they put that on the news a lot. They never actually do it. I guess they think if we think they're gonna come and round us up we won't show up here.
Guess it works on some guys, but there's nothin' really to worry about. But if you don't feel cool about talkin' here it's okay. Where do ya want to go?"

  Alan seemed to be thinking. "How about the A&W? We can get something to drink and sit in the car and talk. That okay?"

  "Sure," Tom said.

  "You want to follow me in your car?" Alan offered. Another surprise. Tom hadn't ever had any qualms lying to anyone about anything. It was all part of the game. Details about one's life weren't relevant to one's sex partners. But he was hesitant to lie to Alan. He did so anyway.

  "It's in the shop," he said, feeling uncomfortable with the untruth.

  "Okay," Alan said and walked toward his car. Tom followed and the two men got in the red Mustang and drove out of the park. They said little on the way to the A&W. Tom figured Alan was uncertain as to how to start the conversation. He'd wait. In the meantime he glanced sideways at his chauffer and took in the handsome profile. Tom took a deep breath. When they got around to the main event he was really gonna enjoy this guy. He considered putting his hand on Alan's thigh but decided it might freak him out.

  After they arrived at the drive in, ordered and received their drinks---for which Alan paid---they still sat in silence. Alan was staring straight ahead. Tom figured if they were ever going to get the evening started they needed to get the talking underway.

  "So, what did ya wanna talk about?"

  Alan wrinkled his brow and turned to face Tom. "I've never done this before."