The head of Ace’s cock peeks out from the white towel he’d wrapped around his waist. Peeks really doesn’t apply when you’re talking about Ace’s dick, it’s such a delicate word and his dick is such a monster. The Continental Baths offer an extensive display of the penis, in all its variety and glory, but even here, Ace is unique.
I know Ace from before Speedy, before Frankie even.
He was dangerous and angry. And so good looking in that way that teenage boys are, their almost man-ness just about bursting them at the seams. Olive skin, rippling belly, thick mauve lips, soft dark hair falling into his eyes. Those eyes were on me that first time we touched. He walked up to where I was sitting — always by the cigarette machine at the foot of the stairs, so I could see the door and the floor– Ace looked me dead in the eyes and leaned in like he was going to kiss me. He slide his hand down my thigh, my calf, all the way down to my foot, never breaking eye contact. I never go anywhere without at least one knife in my bag or my boot, somewhere. You never know. Like that night. There was some action on the street, outside the bar, and he needed my knife — needed what I had, that’s all I cared about. I let him take it, and then, instead of kissing me, he cut me and smiled.
He cut me. On his way out the bar he sliced my belly with my own knife, stopped, looked at me and smiled. It was deep enough to bleed, but not for scars or stitches.
There was no way I wasn’t giving that a test drive.
Later, that night, or some other, they get mixed up, but one of those nights after the Chalice, the three of us were alone. Me. Ace. His giant penis. I knew men & women who’d had sex with him. But Jesus, now looking at it, out in the open like it was, I couldn’t figure how. All my holes, could they be laid end to end, were not long enough to accommodate the glory that was Ace.
If you have a baseball bat between your legs, you need to know gentle and Ace only knew angry. I backed out of the penetration part of the sex. He was willing to settle for head. I had a better chance of swallowing an apple, whole.
And here he was again, standing next to the waterfall, in his towel, with his beautiful cruel mouth. His dick hanging out of his towel, my ass eeking out of the back of mine. On a good day, I don’t know what to do when I run into someone I’ve had sex with — a good day being one where I’m wearing some clothes. I don’t even know if what we did counts as sex. There wasn’t much more than nakedness and intention. Does that count?
Ace is still looking directly at me. What was I doing here he must be wondering. No girls allowed in the Continental Baths. I shoulda been wondering the same thing, but I don’t think about those kinds of things.
I do an about face & head back to the small room I’m sharing with Speedy. Small, but the same as everyone else’s, the size of a twin mattress with ”walls” that don’t reach the ceiling. I can hear the slurp and gag of someone getting head two rooms down, the thud thud of an ass pounding down the hall. If I can hear them… but me & Speedy, we get so fucked from smoking dust our noise is mostly from falling against the walls, trying to fit in the tiny room.
I’ma stick with Speedy for now. Compact, but complete. Every once in a while, in the middle of sex, one of us reaches down just to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. He thinks I’m too loose, I say the dust relaxes me. I think he’s too small, that he has an ass-fucking sized dick, not a pussy sized one, but I don’t say that out loud.
I have get my ass in gear, catch my train. I have an afternoon class. Tap Dancing? Acting? Something. I think it’s today, I lose track of the days.
Speedy thinks fucking me means he’s not a maricon.
I think fucking him means I have a boyfriend.
He’s still sleeping. I pull my clothes out from underneath him, shake out the wrinkles the best I can, head up the stairs, praying I don’t bump into Ace on the way out and then I’m out. 73rd Street. Sunlight. I scrounge around in my bag hoping I still have my sunglasses. I can’t handle people looking at me when I’ve been out all night and it’s been days. I can’t stand the light.
I make my train, make my class.
Tuesday. Tap-dancing.
Shuffle. Ball change….
dirtygirl wonders...
What have you put up with just to have a boyfriend, a girlfriend? What will you let slide, just so you’re not alone…? Post your thoughts below. C’mon, talk dirty to me.
| << 1976 : speedy | 1979 : 7th St. >> |
Posted August 6, 2009 at 1:52 am, filed under the diary and tagged 1976, dirty boys, hustlers, The Chalice, Uptown. Bookmark this post. Follow any comments @ RSS feed for this post.
