Taking a Hard Right

I have always wondered what makes us do what we do? Why do we go in one direction instead of another; taking the right versus the left? That’s what I was thing sitting at a stoplight seeing this kid at the corner holding a sign, ‘I’m Hungry.’

I have seen; we’ve all seen, panhandlers. This kid looked about sixteen, around my height and size, cute beyond description, and he was hungry. I put my car in park, turned on my flashers, and got out walking up to the kid. I have never done this before; just left my car sitting in traffic to engage someone. Not today.

I am not intimidating in any way, don’t have that thug look. I offered him a meal at a nearby restaurant and he accepted after giving me a long look. I told him he could walk there or we could fight the honking traffic because my car was in the middle of the road. He chose the latter.

We sat across from each other in an Applebee’s and I told him he could order anything he wanted. I am fortunate where I have a good job at my age. I did running start while still in High School and at twenty I held a Bachelor’s degree in business. I live in a really nice apartment complex, drive a beamer, and I like to buy clothes.

I ordered a drink because I always try even though I’m not twenty-one and the young man didn’t card me. I asked for a sampler plate as the boy whose name was Collin looked at the menu. His hair was shoulder-length, blondish, sad blue eyes, with skin like a girl. Not that I’m into girls.

I like to think I pull off the ‘straight’ look, bicep’s that stretch my sleeves, attitude that I can through down at the drop of a hat, and I am confident. I watched the young man across from me eating like he hadn’t in days thinking and wondering why I stopped in the first place. Thereby the grace of God go I.

He was shy; I could tell. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes and I did most of the talking because his mouth never stopped chewing, and I ordered another drink; then another. I did eat too, stake Oscar. I do eat well, like fine dining, way better than this place.

In NO way was I wanting or trying to get in this kids' pants, well maybe wanting, just a little. When the words that came out of my mouth surprised even me, “Need a place to stay?”

He stopped chewing and looked me right in the eyes; I saw hope. “Look. No strings, honest.” Again I wondered what makes us do what we do?

“You don’t even know me.” He questioned my motives.

“No, I don’t know you. But I have an extra room and as long as you don’t rip me off or take advantage of me, I’m willing to take the risk.”

“What did you mean; no strings?”

“Like strings, you know,” I assured.

“I don’t know what strings you’re talking about?” And I knew he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Fine. Do you want to play dumb? I don’t expect a blowjob or sex. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I’m not dumb. I just wanted to see you turn red saying it.” And he smiled. Fuck me into next week.

I’d pounded four drinks in an hour and I offered him my keys. “I’ve never driven a car like this.” He said sliding in not adjusting anything.

I gave directions as he drove, right here and left there. I gave him my code for the garage and pointed to my spot. “You have a girlfriend?” He asked in the elevator.

“I have something better,” Holding up my right hand. “Relationships can be complicated.”

“You’re funny.” He said as the doors opened.

“I’m pathetic, is what I am,” I said back opening the door.

“Nice place,” he said walking to the deck taking in the view.

“If you want a shower it’s down the hall to the right, second door. You can take the room across from that. There’s a lock on the door and everything you need is in the shower. I will get you some sleep pants if you want?” And he nodded.

The term ‘sleep pants’ usually refers to something to sleep in; not me. I sleep nude but like wearing something comfortable when I get home. I picked out a pair I thought he’d look good in and noticed he hadn’t closed the bathroom door. I knocked and set them on the counter sneaking a peek at him in the mirror. Time to put my right hand to work.

I didn’t close my bedroom door and didn’t close the bathroom door either; figured I’d be done before he got out of the shower. I was wrong. I was shaming myself in front of the reflection looking back at me; I like jacking off in the mirror. I jacked like normal then turned my hand backwards letting spit fall from my mouth just for some extra lube.

My eyes were closed as I neared climax then I opened them to see the distance and volume my stroking caused. Out of my peripheral, I saw him as cum flew from my staff splashing the mirror and the sink. He had a smile on his face, “That’s a pretty mean right hand you got there.” He announced.

“You little prick! How long you been standing there???”

“Long enough. And I wouldn’t call my dick little until you’ve seen it.” And he dropped the towel walking away.

Now that was just mean on so…many levels. First, standing there and letting me catch him watching me jack off. Second, making reference to my mean right hand and watching me shoot my spunk all over the bathroom. Third, dropping his towel allowing me to see he was nowhere close to little and showing me he was half hard. Fuck.

I walked out finding him looking at all the pictures on the wall, I like taking pictures. He was in the sleep pants I’d set on the counter when he was in the shower and I was right; they looked good on him. I sat at the bar telling him I had to check my email and nodded to the coffee table where the remote for the TV was.

I had three from work and was responding to the first one. “You type fast.” He said standing behind me. “You know you don’t have to hit the keys so hard, right?”

I didn’t know he was standing so close till I threw my head back and hit his chest. I opened my eyes looking at his smile as I looked at him upside down. And he leaned forward reading the email I was in the middle of responding to. “Who is this douche bag?”

“This bag, as you call him, is my boss's friend who works under me. I’m having a hard time convincing him that I don’t work for him and my boss is NO help.”

He tapped the keys, hit backspace, and typed, ‘You are fired. And you can kiss my ass.’ And hit send.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing??? That email could cost me MY job.” I said standing to see a smirk on his face. It caused me to smile.

“Sit down and finish your work.” And he turned me back to my tablet.

The second email was from another guy under my department complaining about, said douche bag. “RC? I will not tolerate this guy trying to tell ME how to do my job. This is my notice. You are a great guy and I’m sorry but, he is a monstrous horse’s ass.” And it had a CC to my boss.

The third email was from my boss. “I am sorry you didn’t come to me, RC. I fired him personally this morning. See you at our Monday morning meeting.”

I let out a long breath as hands started rubbing my shoulders. I swiveled around to come face to face with his smooth chest and I looked down hoping for a glimpse of his not so little dick. Busted. I looked up and he was smiling down at me. Busted.

“Look, Collin. I don’t know what you think might happen here, but it won’t. I don’t do random hookups and sure as hell not with a guy who was standing on a corner a few hours ago.” Talk about a horse’s ass.

I might as well have slapped him. The spunk I saw in his smile disappeared, “I’ll leave.” And he turned.

I stood putting my hands on his hips effectively stopping him. I stepped right up behind him bringing his back to my front. In his ear, I softly said, “I’m sorry. My mouth moved before my brain had a chance to filter what I was going to say.” And I took in a breath smelling his hair and soap from the shower.

“We need to talk, you and I. I am a pretty good judge of caricature and I have a feeling you’re not gonna rob me when I’m sleeping. I want to know why you were hungry and standing on that corner. And I won’t call you a little prick again, I promise.” It made us both smile.

We sat next to each other as he explained. He was older than I thought; nineteen. His parents kicked him out a week ago but he never told me why. I had my guesses. During those seven days' he disclosed some close calls he’d had with perverts, people who spare changed him, and a girl that threw a cheeseburger at him.

“I think I can help you. You’re not dumb, are you?” I asked knowing the answer.

“Why did you do that today. You just got out of your car blocking traffic and walked up to me; why’d you do that???”

“I really have no fuckin idea. I’d be lying if I said looks had nothing to do with it, you know how you look, right? That being said; I saw potential in a guy standing on a street corner asking for handouts. Want some popcorn?” And I stood.

“Want to watch a movie?” I asked sitting next to him setting the bowl in his lap and scrolling.

“Wick 4” And he plopped a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He got up before it started resting the bowl in my lap asking if I wanted anything as he rummaged the fridge for something to drink. I was watching the previews and noticed him looking at me with a smile, “What?” I asked.

“You do know how you look, right?”

Again I asked, “What?” Yes, I was fishing.

“You’re funny.” He said for the second or third time sitting down next to me taking the popcorn back to his lap.

“How old are you,” He asked after a few minutes.

“Twenty-one in a couple of months.”

“You must have a good job? I can tell you work with your brain and not brawn. That didn’t come out right.” And I gave him ‘The Rock’ eye.

“I mean, you’re NO slouchy. You look hard as a fuckin rock; even below the waistband. And by the way; you caught some serious air, dude.”

Again I gave the look but what I got back was awesome. He was turning red, trying to hold back a smile but his dimples betrayed him. Do you know when you get that feeling? When something happens and you know things are going to change? This was it.

Ok. A compliment, even about the air you catch jacking off; is a compliment, none the less. I gave him a Charlie in the leg and grabbed the last handful of popcorn. About halfway through the movie, his head fell to my shoulder; he was out. I wondered how he could possibly fall asleep considering how loud it was.

Dilemma, dilemma, dilemma. I had no point of reference, didn’t have to walk in his shoes, had no idea what the last week had been like for him. No way in hell was I going to ruin his slumber. When it got to the point I couldn’t stay awake I just laid down and he came with me.

I was on the outside with his head on my chest still sound asleep. For my age; I was living the dream. I was just under six figures a year, lived in a high-rise overlooking the city, had the love of my parents; but was emotionally broke. I said I’m not a hookup kind of guy, and I’m not.

During my freshman year, my dorm mate and I had a wonderful year. His bed was for watching movies and mine was for sleep; and other things. He was my first and only, how sad am I? And I thought about, Collin.

Could I help him? Fuck yes, I could. I knew enough people to get him a job. I thought about cuming home every day finding him or waiting for him, sharing my home and bed with someone like him. I saw us as a power couple. How sad am I?

I woke to him doing a swirly with the few hairs growing around my left nipple. I didn’t move. His finger moved so fuckin slow down my sternum, I couldn’t help the roll of my stomach, the hard intake of air; he knew I was awake and stopped at the waistband of my sleep pants. Happened to be where the head of my hard dick was resting.

“I really got to pee,” I said kind of squirming from under him.

“Not with that,” He said pointing at my flagpole.

“Very funny.”

Now I did have to pee, and as we all know, that’s damn hard, with a hard-on. I had to pull out the big guns, gramma, dead kittens, oh my god, mom, and dad. And the stream started with a big breath of air. I looked over at the mirror, laughing. I hadn’t cleaned the cum off and it was a long dried string.

“You got way more booze than food; do you even eat here?”

“No, I don’t eat here. And yes, I have more booze than food. Do you have a point?” And I gave him the look again. “There’s a Starbucks downstairs. What do you want?” And I picked up the phone. “Well???”

“Triple Frap, whipped, 32 oz. and whatever else they have.” Again the eye.

“Hi, Rachel. Did you hear that? Are the muffins fresh? Ok, ok. Two lemons, two with blueberries, damn, and two apple cinnamon. Put it on my tab. Just give it to Jimmy.” I listened.

“You are such a little snoop. I have, company.” And I listened more.

“Bad Rachel! I made you a promise that if I were to ever, let’s say; you know what I said.” And I laughed hanging up the phone. It was a funny conversation.

Again I saw that look from him. “What?” I asked.

I have seen people not believing what they're seeing. His eyes kind of squinted, his head moved slightly back and forth, and he searched for words. His eyes closed for a few seconds, I saw true struggling. He was in disbelief.

“What???” I asked walking towards him. His hands came up.

“This is some kind of, fairy tale, dream; you are a not real.” And he looked around, “none of this is real.”

He was close to a disbelief, meltdown. I mean, I worked the hotline in my freshman year; something had happened to Collin. “Do you like boats?” I asked turning him to the lake.

It was not intentional that when I turned him for my hand to rest on his stomach. “I should go.” He announced turning in my arms looking at me.

And the doorbell rang. I answered thanking Jimmy for bringing it up personally. Starbuck’s. I turned and Collin was still standing there looking at me. I set the shit on the bar handing him his coffee and laying out the muffins. The lemon is my favorite I said handing him one.

He took the muffin and just looked at me. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” And I shook my head back and forth reassuring him it wasn’t.

“I don’t get you.” He said after a bite. Then, “These are fuckin awesome.” And I nodded.

We drank side by side as he sampled one of each and sucked down the last of his thirty-two-ounce drink. “I’m sorry for touching you this morning.” And he looked away.

“I’d have touched me too if I were you.” That made him smile.

“You and I need to have a talk, Collin. I think we should clean up, take a drive, and get to know each other; if you’re up to that.” He nodded.

I didn’t close my doors and saw him standing at the bathroom door; I was still in the shower. “My clothes stink, can I wear something of yours?” And I said yes stepping from the shower.

His eyes washed over me like rain, his cheeks turned a little red and he turned to the mirror to see me without looking directly at me. “You can look through my drawers for underwear and socks, pants and slacks are on the right in my closet. Polo’s and shirts are on the left, shoes are lined up under that, and coats are in the hall closet.” And I grabbed a towel.

He was sitting on the floor pulling out pair after pair; underwear, rubbing a few on his face. “This is sick.” He said when I came out with the towel around my waist.

“Sick in what way?” I had to ask.

“The sickest.” And he started trying them on.

I sat on the bed watching him trying on my underwear. He was having a ball and I was; well? He’d look in the mirror, cup himself, then ask me what I thought turning to see my face. “I’m gonna need another shower if you just don’t pick a fuckin pair.”

“You’re funny.” He said picking a thong. Nice choice.

I walked over putting everything back in the drawer as he inspected my closet. I picked a pair of shiny black briefs. I walked in behind him looking at all the pants, grabbed a pair of jeans, handing them back, and grabbed a shirt making shew, hands.

I know how my shit fits, every pair of pants and shirts, how my cologne fits me, and my watch. I walked out seeing him dressed it front of the mirror; in disbelief. I too, was in disbelief. He turned around and his head followed to see his ass, then running his hand over the left back pocket. And then he saw me in the mirror.

“Don’t, you, even, ask. Yes. They, or it, looks good.” We both knew I was talking about his ass; then he turned around. Now, just so you know; I fill out the front of my pants. Collin did as well.

He watched me dress, took in my legs as I pulled socks on then watching me slither into my jeans. And he smiled. I’d handed him faded blue jeans and a button-down shirt; pale blue stripes running from top to bottom. I would have tucked it in but he wore it on the outside. It worked for him.

I threw him the keys and asked if he was hungry. He nodded. “Get on 5 North; I’ll tell you when to get off.” And we talked.

It was easy to tell he wasn’t dumb and that is what was going through my head thinking about who I might know who’d hire him. “Get off here and back across the freeway.” And he did.

We walked in and Milly threw her hand in the air coming towards me. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?” And I held out my arms.

“This one thinks he’s hungry. Can you help him? This is Collin. I’ve missed you, too.”

I watched him eat. Eggs, bacon and sausage, hash browns and French toast, along with pancakes. I ate a cinnamon roll. “I’ll have one of those,” He told Milly as I looked at the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I pulled my phone out and hit, ‘Mom’, as she and Dad walked in and Mom reached for her purse before seeing me. “Hi, Mom. I’m at Millie’s. You and Dad want to come up???” And Collin looked at me.

If there is a look that says, ‘just go along’ I gave it to him. “Mom, that is crazy that I called you as you walked in the door; don’t you think, Collin???”

I made introductions, my dad gave me a look like ‘good one boy’, I smiled. My mom was smitten with Collin right from the start thinking he was my boyfriend. “We work together, Mom. We’re on our way to one of those stupid, fucking, teambuilding exercises.

“You watch your mouth, young man. There could be children around. This isn’t some sort of truck stop.”

“Fuck, C. Is that really the time?” I asked flashing my phone in his face. “Shit, Mom. We got to go. “Love you;” Collin and I made our exit.

Back on I 5 heading north he finally spoke. “Was your mom, like, cuming on to me???”

“She thinks you’re my boyfriend; OK?”

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked taking his eyes off the road.

“NO. Now watch the road.” I assured.

“I am gay, Collin. I had a fling with my dorm mate last year. He is the only guy I’ve been with.”

“Get out of here.” And he looked at me. I pointed to the road.

“You think I’m some sort of Tinder or Craigslist, whore? Maybe I should drive.”

“I never said that. You are too hot to have to find ass on those sites. I am sorry about this morning.” He admitted again. His hand moving from the gear shift to my inner left thigh.

“I’m not,” I said looking at him

From your Author:

I tried, I really did. I wanted another ‘one-off’. At 3700 words there was NO way it could happen. I’m sorry. I see the next chapter at around 5000 words and we might come to the end. The things I have on the back burner had become boring to me.

My last installment, and this story, are not boring to me. It’s not laborious to write. From my point of view, a writer’s POV, this is easy. I went back last night and responded to readers who commented, gave myself another ten, and a big heart; because I can. I want to see readers comment and I do my best to go back and comment back to them.

I Have readers who have found me and they go back to, ‘Robby and Ryan’. Some found ’The Start’, ‘Something Different”, and ‘The bug”. I value all those who read and comment; positive or negative, I value all of you.

As a writer and one who posts on this; a gay site, I expect criticism. I don’t write smut; huge cocks and imposable deep throating. I write about what I see as real things happening every day. Take this story for example.

This story; for example, a homeless kid on a street corner. Me, a guy only a year older who has so… much going for him. Is that too far from how shit is? A month ago I chipped a curb to stop and walk up to a guy sitting in a parking lot. His face was all tatted up, he had a dog, and I had just spent three hundred dollars on two pairs of jeans. Thereby the grace of God, go I.

“He’s protective,” He said as I walked up holding out my hand.

The dog sniffed me, I looked at his sign, and I held up a bill. “That sign, true? You a Vet?” and he nodded. “Thank you for your service,” And I handed him a hundred-dollar bill.

“No. Thank you,” and he reached out for a handshake.

Fuckin Money. A guy who saw shit that would make most people puke was asking for handouts; that’s wrong on so… many levels. We just can’t start that discussion. The point I’m making is, that was true. True again, I saw a kid standing on a street corner. Sorry again. With my notes, we are around 4130. RJC.