Piece

Picking up from where "Piece" left off five years earlier, a revenge fling produces a stalker as our nameless protagonist attempts to move on with his life by finding himself under his neighbor.  

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“Man, I don’t see why we can’t have our own crack at this love game,” Antonio Barbera, the six-foot-seven former bodyguard of my ex-boyfriend, mouthed.

It was like a scene out of one of those cheesy chick flicks where we had just darted out of a downpour. I happened to be posted up against the stucco wall and the black Guatemalan was standing in front of me looking as if he lost a few pounds. He was tugging on the lapels of my fifties style waiter’s uniform looking as if he wanted to smother his blubbery lips over mind and wildly carry me off into the sunset. The romantic in me was rooting for him. Go back east where it all started, start things anew. Maybe even dare pick up where we left off? Pretend like none of this ever happened or go back to a time before I got caught up in this crazy world. The reality was even though I was far from getting my life back on track, I actually liked my life the way it was now. Could it stand some improvements? Absolutely! No doubt. It felt good just the same though, as if I was finally breathing again without the constant weight or worry that some well kept secrets could tumble out at any moment now.

I just looked into the soul of the giant standing before me. I couldn’t pull my words together fast enough, but he knew my thoughts better than I did my own. And with that, the only thing left was to stand on my tiptoes to reach up and kiss the clean-cut man before darting back out into the rain towards my car.

It was my fault really. I went straight to the top with no breaks. So there was no other choice but for me to fall back to the ground. I can’t cry over too much spilled milk, though. My descent wasn’t hard. The ride was sweet–while it lasted. I got to live the baller lifestyle for a little while, long enough to get use to the ins and outs and left it all behind with a nice parting gift.

The rollercoaster ride for this event began a few years back when I reconnected with a childhood friend. He was a singer who never made it big, but who was on a record label with a legendary rapper named Cyclone who was still making moves in the industry. Long story short, after Mathias and I caught Cyclone in concert we head back to the get-down and it exploded into an all-out orgy with the burly immigrant bodybuilder being the first to pluck this wonderful behind followed up by the star attraction and the rest of his well-endowed entourage.

The story should’ve ended there. It should’ve been one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences for everybody to jack off to later in their alone time. And for a little while that was exactly what it was. It slowly grew into something more when one-by-one these men came back into town wanted to know if I had some free time on my hands to meet up with them. I can’t say that there wasn’t a time I couldn’t pencil them into my schedule. I was very much interested in reliving some of the action we experienced that night, even just a snippet of it. With an enormous smile on my face, I can’t say that any of those men fell short of my expectation. In fact, a few of them got it in so well that I felt the only way I could ever be sated again was if I took on the whole crew just one more time. Not long after, I began to receive special request to fly out for the weekend to join some of these men before I became a regular in their circle and never went back home.

I was sort of lost finding my place in this new world. I was still more comfortable wearing regular clothes instead of looking as if I just stepped off the set of some music video. I couldn’t go incognito around the crew because it was well known that I had slept with just about every guy and then some, even going so far as being reduced to giving hand jobs under the table. I quickly found my place when it became routine for me to help take care of some of the guys who struck out with some of the girls at the club. I think after a while a few of them enjoyed my services so much that they didn’t even bother to spit game so busy trying to lure me into a dark room for a slow knob slob or a quick shot of ass. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t ashamed of being a freak for dick like that. Especially when we were doing it in ways where we always this close to getting caught.

I was starting to get off on how many ways I could get these horny guys off in a day when the guys started slacking off in the sheets. I could tell just by looking at their crotches that they still wanted to do something, but something or someone was serious baller-blocking them altogether. The picture became crystal clear when I was summoned up to a hotel suite when I found Cyclone and his biscuit-brown sheen spread out naked on the bed.

Anyone listening to the suggestive lyrics of the legendary rapper would easily walk away believing that he was one of the biggest players around. Why wouldn’t he be? He was a very attractive, muscled-down, tatted up, well-known and well-liked brotha in the music industry with money galore. His only faux pas was that thing between his legs. He had an extremely big dick–like FREAK SHOW CIRCUS BIG! So big in fact it could’ve been classified as a third leg with its own fleshly sock torn at the toe. He couldn’t just pull it out without some bastard or bitch crying rape and threatening to take his fortune. It was why he had his boys run a train on me that night at the hotel, to open me up good enough to take him. He knew I could take him because of that. He knew I was one of those nasty freaks that could go that extra mile to milk that sweet pipe so good that it would take him a day or two just to recover from the experience. So I took care of him.

What I wasn’t banking on was that I would spend the next five years of my life doing just that. Wherever he was, I wasn’t too far behind keeping his bed warm. It wasn’t exclusive, of course. I knew he had to be seen with an ocean of beautiful women to keep up appearances, with some itching for the chance to be with the great Cyclone. I wasn’t put on a leash, either. I was encouraged to do the same seeing that I was seen as part of the entourage, and everybody seemed to have a girlfriend or a wife on the side to lay claim to. That was my plan, too. It just got derailed when I let my emotions get caught up in the man behind the glitzy persona. The bedroom was quite nice, but the other rooms around the house suited us just as fine as well. I guess that was where the battle was lost. I forgot to keep the chase going. I forgot about the freedom spontaneous sex with other men brought. It became all about Cyclone all the time. I think he began to feel the same way about me, too.

Imagine my disbelief when after an afternoon of marathon sex he announced that he was getting married to this French chick he met six months earlier when we were celebrating our anniversary over in St. Tropez. He told me he wanted to settle down and have a family. I could’ve been cool with that, very understanding, if he just shut his mouth right there. No. Cyclone further informed me that this chick was The One. She had an oversized vagina that could easily fit him like a glove. Like I was just some sort of damn sleeve he could get off in for the time being. If I thought I was angered by the news of his engagement, I was livid when he asked if I mind being a groomsman at his wedding. You know, round out the party.

I lost it. I just lost it! I went from sniveling like a little bitch to taking the liquor bottle to the head and spent the following weekend draining his bodyguard with serious abandonment issues off all the bodily fluids he could muster. Antonio swore by the end of the ordeal that he was madly in love. I tried telling myself I felt something for him, too, but the truth was I was too consumed with hate to really pay him any mind, thinking of other men to fuck that were close to Cyclone to get back at him. It was barely a minute after I enacted my plan that his bitch came out with guns blazing wanting to get rid of everybody in his camp. The thing that got everybody was that Cyclone went about it like a little punk letting it go down without bothering to say anything to the contrary. He might not have looked out for everybody that helped him become a household name, but he went out of his way to make sure I was good before he jumped the broom. He gave me enough money to outright buy a decent two-bedroom home with plenty left over to wild out and sustain me for a spell.

The second I bounced my motorcycle into the driveway behind my car it felt as if I had dumped the weight of the world off my shoulders. I was fresh from the post office that bright and sunny afternoon after sending Cyclone and his new bride their belated wedding gift. I knew I didn’t have to do that, but it was my way of accepting he made his choice to let go and I was free to do same.

I barely got off my new set of wheels when then this incredible feeling came over me when I saw my putty brown-skinned neighbor from across the street shuffle his way over in his socks and flip-flops. Sam didn’t even have to open his mouth for me not to know that while I had learned to let go, another piece of baggage in my life hadn’t.

“Big Man stopped by again.” Sam heralded in that sexy Tone Loc-deep voice of his sports a crisp low cut fade and a trimmed long beard that hung off of his short fat face by a couple of inches. “I think he ran over to the convenient store. He’ll probably be back in a few minutes.”

I puffed out a long groan and slowly got back on my bike to walk behind Sam over to his place. He smoothly ducked through the iron front door to lookout for me while I continued on the side of his house through the wooden gate leading to the backyard.

Antonio had been a thorn in my side ever since he decided not to head back east for his new job. He concluded that our “love” was too strong just to be ignored. He had to stick around to see where something so real could lead. I was trying to be nice. I tried sending him off on a good foot, but I had to be frank with him. The dick was amazing, but it wasn’t going to work out. He knew of at least thirty guys I let fuck me since the first night we met. Even my liberated ass knew it was only a matter of time when the thought of all those men plugging me was going to fuck with his mind, and I was doomed to be on the receiving end of his visceral attack. I’m not in the business of dealing with that foul shit anymore. He called himself addressing my concerns by telling me he didn’t care about my past. He said if I hadn’t gotten other dudes out of my system he was cool with that, too. Given, of course, that if I did that, he had to be around to keep an eye on things by watching or participating. Antonio thought I should’ve jumped on that offer because he moved into the extended stay near the expressway waiting for me to change my mind. But it was only when the ogre was between security assignments that he stood outside my door telling me he was nothing without “our love.”

I entered Sam’s backyard with my bike not intending to find Tory back there tending to his cannabis patch hidden among the tall plants in the yard. I didn’t mean to startle him. I thought he clearly heard me in the back since it wasn’t as if it was hard to miss me on his small space of earth back there. Apparently, he didn’t. I spooked him, looking back at me like a mischievous youngster that just got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Tory said breathing a sigh of relief with his thick rusty brown hair sticking out with sweat under his weathered baseball cap. “I thought you were somebody else.”

Tory paused, looked at me with my motorcycle in tow and mutual aggravation in his face. He jerked his head over to the small tool shed in the corner behind him.

Crenshaw wasn’t where I wanted to be, but it wasn’t nearly as bad of a place I had made it out to be either. My neighbors overall were pretty cool. They did a fantastic job of looking out for me, just like they did back east. The major difference being that I couldn’t do as great of a job keeping my business under wraps like I used to. Not with a large black man pacing frantically in front of my house begging for me to give “us” a chance.

I tried telling myself I was being paranoid about the whole situation. Antonio wasn’t so loud that everybody could here him; constantly telling myself that the people living around me–absent of Sam and Tory–were just too busy paying attention to their own lives to give mine a second thought. If I had to really be honest about it, though, I would say most people only speculated about what was going on. But since Antonio and I didn’t get off into that switching stuff and still walked around proudly packing our dicks, I don’t think anybody truly thought there was more to the picture than our annoyance. Though, there were times when I felt like I was cold busted by some mature ex-cons, in particular, who would sometimes ride by my house and blow me a gangster’s kiss. If it wasn’t already enough for me to deal with one crazy black man too many, I might’ve been crazy enough to go there with them, especially with that off-looking dark-skinned dude with those crazy blue eyes.

“I take it that Fat Boys wants his good kush back again, huh?” Tory taunted as I tried to make my way into the house through the backdoor.

“Please, not now, man,” I pleaded, praying that Sam might have one of his infamous protein shakes ready for me to sample. “I was having a good day before I heard about him coming around again.”

“I told you about giving away my best stuff like that. You got motherfuckers around here banging on your door wanting multiple helpings of that shit. I don’t see why you don’t make life easy on yourself and just throw a dude a pack of Oreos into traffic and be done with it. That, and just let me have a little bit of some what he’s craving.” Tory licked his lips and slightly chuckled, though the look in his eyes suggested he was as serious as a heart attack.

I looked back at Tory while he puckered his lips ready to blow me a kiss before I ducked inside.

“I got your bed ready,” Tory announced balancing his solid frame on his huge foot as he leaned over to smooth out the sheets he spread on top of the sofa.

Night fell over California, and obviously I was still there in their house. Antonio was visible from across the street sitting on my doorstep drinking one of those big cheap bottles of beer, looking like he was a sip short of stretching out all over my short sidewalk waiting on my return.

I had just stepped out of the kitchen into the living room sipping on my own little red cup with a tinge of lustful regret itching in my pants. I spent the better part of the night turning Tory down on his invitation to join him in his bed for the hundredth time, and there he was looking so damn good in nothing else but those white and blue-green striped boxers.

It wasn’t so much him as it was the wild hairs of his thick hairy legs looking as if they could be quite ticklish against my skin.

If Antonio was a stalker, Tory was simply annoying, I reminded myself.

Tory was the owner of the pale orangey house across the street from mine that he shared with his cousin Sam. Tory previously spent the last nineteen years of his career working for one of the major utility companies before getting injured on the job and forced to file for workman’s comp, later disability. He was injured, but he wasn’t disabled. He just didn’t want to give his life back over to The Man anymore. He came over to my house shortly after I got settled in trying to sell me some of his homegrown weed. He took one look at me, found out I was single and wasted no time making a play for me. Right there on the spot. He just couldn’t believe that a sweet Southern boy like me chose to live all the way out in big Southern California all by myself, especially with all the talk of the rampant gang violence. When I didn’t take him up on his offer (already knowing that Crenshaw was never notorious for gang activity), he promise to look out for me just the same. He didn’t want a boy like me to get eaten up by the wolves out here. He didn’t leave without offering up his other services around the house since he was also a talented handyman. I begrudgingly needed him sooner rather than later to help me stop a sprouting leak and a few other minor things, liking pulling a gun out for my protection and providing a safe hideout spot when the police didn’t bother to show up nearly as quick as I would’ve preferred.

There was some sexual tension between me and Tory. I won’t lie. Nothing is hotter than two highly sexually-charged masculine men fighting it. But even if the circumstances didn’t lend itself to the situation at play, I still wouldn’t bother to give him the time of day. Tory was such an arrogant ass most of the time. And not the kind that usually prove to be sexy as hell after he’s gotten under your skin either. He already thought I owed him for being a good neighbor. It would be all over if he was halfway decent in bed. I would never hear the end of it. He would be worse than my other problems sitting over there in front of my house. Though, it might be worth it to know that there someone nearby to scratch an itch when I didn’t feel like reaching for it myself.

No. I can’t even think like that! Not about him like that anyway. Tory already had an ego problem. His biggest problem was that he already thought he was God’s gift to the world because of his high yellow skin tone as if it was the sum total of his very existence. Because of it, he thought he could say and do just about anything to anybody and get away with it.

Tory was arrogant, but he wasn’t ugly to my dismay. He was cute in an easily overlooked sort of way. He probably could’ve shined a lot more if he just fell back a little and played it cool. Got over himself, I mean. He probably could’ve scored a few extra points if he freely nodded that Sam was actually the better looking of the two, and it had nothing to do with him being significantly younger either. Sam had that Big Daddy thing working for him at twenty-eight that most men never get a chance to master anywhere late into their maturity. Tory had to have been scraping forty or just past it, but appeared to look a decade younger than his age and acted another decade younger than he looked.

“Good night.” Tory said, heading off down the hall to his bedroom.

“Good night.” I responded, thinking that his beefy body was really quite sweet covered in that thin layer of hair.

It had to be about three o’clock when I woke up again for the fourth time that night. I was just horny like any other times before, sleepily teasing both my dick and outer lips of my puckered void waiting for this new wave of lust to pass. I thought if I held out for morning, when Antonio had cleared, I could get in front of my laptop and pull up one of my favorite X-rated clips. I could’ve also done what I needed to do and rolled over, but I felt the scent might be telling on me later on. Then it hit me. I had no reason to be playing with myself. I had two men that were willing to hook me up if I just asked. If I went back across the street, I knew what I would be getting. The flaw with that was that I knew exactly what I would be getting, which was the very reason I was over here. Behind Door #2 wasn’t much more intriguing. But behind it lingered a mystery, though. I heard a lot of mouth from Tory over the past few months, but I wasn’t sure if he could back up all that big talk. I thought long and deep over it. If I let him get at me, hit it, I would never hear the end of it. If he was half as good as he let on, then I might not be so resistant to give him his props. If he sucked, he could never say I never gave him a shot and be free to critique his faults.

Tory was snoring soundly when I cracked the door to his bedroom. I quickly got a whiff of weed lingering about. Even in his sleep, he was an arrogant jackass. Sleeping on his back in the center of the bed with his head tilted back in the pillow and arms stretched out as he was a king in the middle of an imaginary threesome. I kept asking myself if I really wanted to go through with this, as I thought about retreating and ducking into the second bedroom. It was worth a crack, I reasoned. The only thing that stopped me was that I actually believed Sam when he said he was straight. And besides, it didn’t help much that his older cousin liked me and was already claiming me as his personal possession.

I pulled back the covers and slowly climbed in next to Tory. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to wake up just yet. Just in case I suddenly had a change of heart. All the while I was in his bed I kept on questioning what I was going to do next. It was like I was a virgin all over again, not knowing what moves to make. At first, I thought about just waking him up. Letting him know I was in his bed if he was still game. I had to stop right there. I had to remind myself I had better skills than that. I needed to be a little more seductive. Yeah. Considering he had been working hard to get to this place with me. Then I thought about waking him up by running my fingers through his dusting of hair across his chest and down its skipping trail that ended somewhere below his waistline to where his warm banana resided.

In trying to make up my mind as to what to do next, I put my head on one of his many pillows underneath his arm. The closeness of our bodies strangely took me back to those nights alone with Cyclone. I was always under him holding him tight while we dream. It was usually about that time of the morning when he would slip away from my grip and climb under the sheets. I don’t know what position I started out in, but I would always be flat on my back when he took his big hands and parted my cheeks just enough to fit his handsome face and long tongue in all the right places. I woke up plenty of mornings face down moaning pure ecstasies into the contoured pillow. Cyclone tired convincing me it was all about me, but we both knew it was really about him, about me not saying no to him when the time came when he needed to bury his hefty dick somewhere.

I wasn’t even aware all that I was doing until I had my nose in the slit of his boxers, taking in the clean musty scent of his wiry pubes. I kissed the sluggish shaft and licked the length of it nice and slow before nursing the hooded beast in my warm wet mouth. Tory was quick to respond with a commanding erection that grew leaps and bounds, like an old car antenna out its rear, but the man himself was slow to stir, not sure what was going on.

“You got that for me, don’t you?” Tory mumbled. He did it in such a way with the slits of his eyes still lidded that he probably thought he was still in a dream.

I could’ve done a few things to change that line of thinking. Instead, I decided to be the good little freak that I was and play along with his fantasy as he rushed to close his eyes. I insured him that my touch was dreamlike. The way I held his cock, the way I stroked his cock. Wet thirsty gulps of a good blowjob that should’ve been presented were replaced by the torturous tongue lashes using the flat side of my sweet tongue.

“Oh damn, baby,” Tory moaned, putting his hands behind his head with my lips sliding along his velvety smooth mass. If this really was a dream for him, he had no interest in waking up from it anytime soon.

Tory had an awkward dick. It was chunky and uneven and downright ugly in an endearing sort of way. His balls were odd, too, though. His sac was small and sweet, but they were backed with a pair that made them look larger than they were but by typical standard didn’t measure up to par, though I licked them slowly just the same.

“That’s my nutts!” Tory gurgled with sleepy pleasure as the slits of his eyes lazily parting open.

I saw his hand move slowly to the top of my head. It was as if he was trying to fight moving it. As if he dared reached out and touch me that his dream would come to an abrupt end. He scared himself more than he scared me when his hand landed on the top of my head, and he still felt the same incredible sensation.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me. I knew it. I just knew it. I felt it in my bones,” Tory said wearily, swinging his other hand out to the side of my face making sure I was real.

His hand was steady on top of my head bouncing in his lap as my mouth got hungrier for him. He rode this feeling for a while, telling me that it was driving him crazy just knowing I was in the next room lying on that crappy sofa instead of his bed.

“Enough of that,” Tory smiled. “Come up here. I want to take care of you like your man suppose to.”

I snaked my way up to him. I was expecting a few kisses across my face and neck, but nothing prepared me for the kisses he placed across my lips. It was like his tongue was hungry for his taste, and he was going to explore every inch of my mouth to get it. If I wasn’t hard before my dick was certainly on brick then. I was so caught up that I didn’t get to see how smooth he was with his game. All the while he was kissing me and making me feel this certain way, he had slipped on a condom and lubing me up at the same time.

It was like I had no say so in the matter, but just fine with it just the same. Tory had me on my back so fast that if it wasn’t for his hands behind my knees I would have never known that my feet was already braced against his shoulders. He had me so open and so pre-greased that it felt like he was boning a cloud in me. He worked my booty, pinning my arms against the pillows to gain better access. I thought he was doing this to get better control, just to go for his. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was like he knew where to go with me and what to do to make me hot, to appeal to the intimate freak in me. He was stroking like we had been doing this for a long time and every place he hit was just the right spot.

“Bounce that ass, baby boy.” Tory demanded. I had no idea that he had worked me into such a heated sweat until I was dripping with it. I thought I was just lying back and enjoying the ride when I felt the full force of my feet press against his chest, and I was grinding my hips hard against him, wanting and begging for one more pump. “Tell me how good that shit is, baby.”

“Damn, dawg. It’s good. It’s damn good.” I said vomiting up my old street lingo.

“It’s the best? Huh?”

“It’s the best. Damn, Daddy! It’s the fucking best! No lie!” Tory had me crying tears of joy.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Tory said with the arrogance creaming back up in his voice. As good as he had me feeling, I didn’t mind letting him have this one. He’d earned it.

I made up my mind I was going to let him have a few more in the future after he grabbed the ball and started taking these long deep jabs in my guts that made me appreciate this wasn’t just his dick in my ass. This was him in me, him and me. And when I got the sense of that, he went back to fucking me, and I felt his dick tense up. He didn’t need to say anything. He just tensely looked at me and fell into a daze and just poured everything he had into the condom inside of me.

I don’t remember much after that. I don’t remember even rubbing one out to go to sleep. I just remember waking up spent to these pair of eyes staring back at me skinning and grinning like he was certain he was about to get some more. Damn that arrogant ass.