Читать книгу Eight Inches - Sean Wolfe Fay - Страница 11

The alarm buzzed loudly, scaring Carlos out of his deep sleep. He sat up in the strange bed, causing the sheet that covered him through the night to fall to the floor. He was naked. And hard. Grabbing the sheet from the floor, he covered his lap and looked over next to him. He was relieved to see no one was in the bed with him. He reached over and shut off the alarm just as the bedroom door opened and a middle-aged man came in carrying a breakfast tray.

“Good morning. Sorry about the clock, I know it’s kind of obnoxious. I have to meet my sister at noon to go shopping, so I thought it’d be good if we got up early.”

“Where am I?” Carlos asked, bringing the sheet up higher to cover his chest.

“We’re at my house,” the man said, setting the tray in front of Carlos.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Jonathan. I picked you up on Geary Street last night, remember?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. You were somewhat inebriated. Here, this will help you.” He handed Carlos a glass of orange juice. “And there are a couple of aspirin there, too.”

“Why am I naked?”

“Because you could not possibly have fulfilled my wildest fantasies as you did last night had you been clothed, that’s why. You know, for a small boy, you are very well equipped. Worth the extra ten dollars, let me tell you.”

“Extra ten dollars?” Carlos asked, confused.

“Why yes, we agreed on forty.” He noticed Carlos’ puzzlement, and realized the opportunity. “Or was it thirty?”

“It was forty,” Carlos said, the night before slowly unfolding before him.

“Well, like I said, it was worth it.”

“Thank you.”

“I have to shower now. Eat your breakfast, then you can shower before I take you back to Geary Street. Or was there somewhere else you wanted to go?”

“No. That’s fine.”

“All right then. Eat up.”

Jonathan went into the bathroom, leaving Carlos alone in the bedroom. Carlos popped the aspirin into his mouth and swallowed them with the orange juice. Little by little the events of the night before came back to him. The old man had stripped Carlos naked and just stared at him for a long time before laying him on the bed and rubbing his body. Soon his mouth had enveloped Carlos’ dick, sucking and licking it for what seemed an eternity. Then the old man was on his hands and knees and Carlos was behind him, pumping like he had done with girls in his dreams. It felt better than anything he’d ever felt before; it was his first time, after all, and near the end Carlos thought he was surely dying. His heart was pounding extremely fast, and then, without warning, he felt his load erupt from his balls and blast through his rod and deep inside the stranger.

That was the night before, and now, only hours after that vigorous workout, Carlos’ dick was harder and fatter than he could ever remember. The sheet created a pleasant friction on his hard cock, and when he reached down to touch it he shuddered. He wrapped his fist around the fat dick and began to slowly pull at it. The sensation was so intense he could not stifle a series of low moans. It took only a few pulls at the readied cock before it shot. Several long streams of warm cum landed on Carlos’ face, more landed on his chest and stomach. He instinctively licked a drop that landed on his lips, and kept pumping at his dick until the last drop trickled out of the tip.

It was then that Carlos noticed the old man leaning against the bedroom door. Carlos grabbed the sheet and tried to cover himself.

“That was amazing. The shower’s all yours, cutie.”

Carlos decided he couldn’t hide his naked body forever, and stood up and walked naked toward the bathroom, his cum cooling on his torso and dripping down his hard, flat stomach.

Jonathan reached down and gave Carlos’ slowly deflating cock a gentle squeeze as he passed.

Carlos smiled shyly and closed the door behind him as he took his shower.

Jonathan dropped Carlos off in front of the Supremo’s Pizza store where he had picked him up the previous night. Carlos went into the store and ordered a Coke. He finished it slowly, watching the clock on the wall, and waiting until eleven o’clock before getting up to leave. His father left for work at eleven o’clock on Saturday mornings, so it would be safe to go home.

He wondered how bad the fight had been and how badly hurt his mother would be. The fights, which had been going on for as long as Carlos could remember, had become more frequent in the past year and a half, when his father had been fired from his foreman’s job at the Burton Jones Welding Company. He had been warned repeatedly, and after showing up drunk on the job for the fourth time, he was fired. Now he worked for his brother-in-law, whom he hated, making ten dollars an hour laying brick. Supporting a family on that salary wasn’t easy, Carlos knew. But he also knew it didn’t help matters any when every payday his father took his mother out and got stinking drunk.

The fights were always over Carlos, and it took far less than a genius to know why. Mr. Cortez had very dark brown skin, Mrs. Cortez had very dark brown skin, and little Rosie had very dark brown skin. Carlos’ skin was a honey-colored light brown. Mr. Cortez had dark brown eyes, as did his wife and daughter. Carlos had bright, electrifying blue eyes, accentuated with long, curly eyelashes. Carlos’ father and mother were overweight, and little Rosie was chubby, seeming to follow in their steps. Carlos was, and always had been, lean and muscular.

Less than a full year after her marriage to Juan Cortez, Lydia Cortez began having an affair, quite indiscreetly, with Richard Norman, a local schoolteacher. He was an extremely handsome man, tall and trim, with jet-black hair and crystal clear blue eyes. He also had a very distinguishable birthmark—two small moles on the left side of his chin. It only added to his handsomeness, and many times after making love Lydia would lick his chin and say how cute his “beauty marks” were. The affair lasted three months before Juan found out about it. He had walked in on them in bed together and had beaten the shit out of Richard, causing him to flee town.

Less than a year later Lydia gave birth to her first child. Baby Carlos had skin three tones lighter than his parents. And he had two small moles on the left side of his chin. Later, when his eyes lost that initial gray-black color that all babies are born with, they emerged his present turquoise blue. The fights began two weeks after Lydia brought Carlos home from the hospital, and Juan had never treated Carlos as his son.

That little boy was in front of his own house now, and seeing his father’s car gone, he walked inside. His mother and Rosie were in the front room watching an episode of Superstar Showcase on TV. Lydia looked up as he walked in, and Carlos noticed a small cut on her lower lip. At least there was no black eye, he thought.

“Hi, honey,” she said as she stood up and walked over to him. “Are you all right?” She hugged him tightly.

“I’m fine, Mom. You?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Where did you go last night? I was so worried.”

“Hey, Poncho.” Rosie ran over to her brother and hugged his legs lovingly.

“Hi, Cisco.” Carlos ruffed her hair and returned his attention to his mom. “I went to a friend’s.”

“You were warm then? It was so cold outside.”

“Yeah”—Carlos remembered the night—“I was warm.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I had breakfast.”

“Sure?”

“Mmm-hmm. Who’s on Showcase?”

“Hannah Montana!” Rosie screamed.

“Gross!” Carlos teased, and Rosie hit him playfully as the three of them sat down to watch his little sister’s favorite singer.