SHOPPING AND A MOVIE
I walked past the door for the third time, convinced there was a sign hovering over my
head that said "Pervert." I sighed again. The imaginary sign had started out saying
"Can't get laid," then moved on to "Loser." Now I was convinced people were staring at
me. The fourth pass by...I took a deep breath, read the sign that said "Adults
Only"...again...grabbed the handle and yanked the door opened. I entered the store like
I'd been booted in. The clerk looked up at me, snapped his gum, and looked back down
at the magazine he was reading. I let out the breath I'd been holding without knowing it,
and browsed. I had no fucking idea what I was doing.
I was trying to make the incessant horniness stop, that's what I was doing. Upon
examination, my balls were still that hairy pink they'd always been, but from the inside,
they were blue. A deep shade of indigo, to be exact. A very painfully deep shade of
indigo. I looked down at myself, and there it was again, the erection from hell that no
amount of hand action had made go away. I hate you, I thought savagely. I hate you, hard
cock. I hate the men that won't go out with me. I hate me. I also hate Adult Book Stores.
My imaginary sign now said "Desperate." I wandered over to the movie section and
stared at covers. A good fuck flick. That's what I needed. A really good fuck flick. If there
was such a thing. I heard a deep, hopeless sigh. At first I thought I'd done it, then I
realized it came from the man across the display. He looked up and our eyes met. He
smiled weakly. "You look like I feel," he said. "You feel like a desperate, perverted, loser
who can't get laid?" I said without thinking. He threw his head back and laughed
delightedly. My cock tried to climb out of my pants, chanting "man, man, man!"
The "man, man, man" laughed until tears streamed from the hazel eyes. Large, deeply
set, hazel eyes, in a handsome face with a strong jaw and gentle mouth. He was my
height. About my build, I guessed, only on him it seemed...different. Well dressed, in a
comfortable "day off" kind of way. He wore one of those watches that supplied more
information than I'd ever need from my wrist, and had a pager attached to his belt. He
wiped his eyes with a knuckle, the laughter having died to a helpless chuckle. "I'm sorry,"
he said. "I think I needed the release of laughing like that. I'm wound up a little tightly. You
should have seen me walking past this place. I don't even know what I'm doing in here.
CONTINUE >>
|
