A PAIR OF STRAYS
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM
I was sitting at the McDonald's on Colorado near the Santa Monica Pier. The seats are open-air, to let people sit and enjoy the sun and the cool ocean air. I had a cup and a tray in front of me where I sat. They weren't mine, but I had quickly sat there when the guy who had eaten there left them behind; it made me look like I belonged here, like I had bought food and was just resting until I got up and left.
I had my eye on a family. The mother was busy fussing with the baby, she wasn't watching how the three-year-old wasn't eating his meal. He had the toy from the Happy Meal and was playing with it, but he wasn't eating. God, if she just didn't notice a bit longer.
I heaved a sigh of relief when she got up to go and turned to see the uneaten food on her son's tray.
"Jeff!" she scolded him. "You didn't eat anything!"
"I know." the kid said like he was sorry/not sorry.
The woman checked her watch. "You're going to be hungry before supper, you know."
"I know."
"Throwing perfectly good food away." the mother said as she took the tray to the trash. My eyes followed it hungrily. The bin was filled to the brim. Would she? Would she? It'd be so much easier if....
She placed the tray on the top of the bin and turned away. As she did, I grabbed my own tray and went over there at a fast walk, my mouth drooling. God, please, let me get there first!
I did. I put my tray of empty paper into the bin, shaking it off, and lifted the tray of food in my hand, put the other one down, and turned. Nobody was noticing, and I instantly morphed from a guy who had just finished eating into a guy who was about to eat...because I was!
I plunked the tray down at the empty table and slid into place. A small hamburger (the buns and meat and a pickle, nothing else kind) and a small handful of fries, and a drink that was only half drunk. Manna from heaven, when you haven't eaten much of anything for three or four days. I dug in, and didn't care that the kid had poked holes in the bun with his finger or his toy, both of which were none-too-clean. Hunger can overlook a lot of kid-goop on food. If you haven't discovered that for yourself...you're damned lucky, no matter how much your mom won't let you stay out after eleven o'clock even on a weekend, or your allowance is too small to let you take a girl out on a date. Damned lucky!
"Nice save." came a voice as a shadow fell over my tray. I looked up to see a guy about my own age, holding a tray. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Uh...go ahead." I said.
He sat, he had a Big Mac and a medium sized fries. I could have scarfed down that myself, if I'd had it. I finished the small hamburger I had; it had been worth about three bites. Now I had maybe two bites of French fries, and I'd be done eating. I hesitated between the two mini-courses by picking up the drink.
"Never saw such a smooth set of moves in quite a while." the guy went on. His smile was easy and admiring, the face smooth and relaxed looking. This was the face they chose to advertise shaving cream, to plaster with their white froth to be scraped off and show the sharp cheeks, the straight jowl, the thin lips that curved easily over the straight, white teeth. His hair wasn't smoothly coiffed, and his clothes weren't very clean, but the smile and the face won over that a great deal. I liked the guy on the spot, as you can imagine, though his approach had me puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you made the switch smooth as butter." the tone was uniformly admiring, but the subject was uncomfortable.
"I don't know what you mean." I said hopefully.
"With the trays there at the trash. Nobody who wasn't watching you carefully would have spotted what you did at all." he went on. "Lots of guys just settle for digging in the trash and let everyone see them do it, but you made a real effort to not be seen salvaging that burger and fries. A nice haul, too, wasn't it?"
I blushed. "You saw me?" I said.
"Hey, only because I was watching you." he said. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Maxwell. Call me Max."
"Max." I said. "Linc." I introduced myself.
"Good to meet you, Linc." Max said. "You're new in town, huh?"
"Yeah." I said. "Got in less'n a week ago."
"This is a good town to be in." Max said. "Plenty of organizations to help you out, and if you're patient, you can get enough from handouts to eat off of." He showed his own plate. "It's how I got this."
"Yeah?" I was new to panhandling. I hadn't been out on the street such a long time, less than a year. I'd made the money I'd had last for a good bit of that, stretching it out with odd jobs here and there and such. But that was gone now, and for better or worse, I would be living among the vast homeless of the Greater Los Angeles area. Los Angeles is warm most of the year, no danger of freezing to death like you could in Chicago or New York City. If this town had a problem, it was that so many people chose like I did, there were so many homeless here. This part of Santa Monica practically bulged with homeless people, they were on every street corner, in the parks every couple of dozen feet, my own furtive attempts at panhandling had gone down and the reaction I'd gotten from the people I'd approached was that they'd already been approached a dozen times that day and didn't want to give a dime to a young man like myself, obviously able to work for a living, I must be going to use the money I'd get from them for drugs or booze.
I ate my French fries and licked my lips. Max saw my face and pulled about half the fries out of his cardboard holder and put them on my tray. "Here, eat up." he said.
"Thanks!" I said, and did.
It was my beginning of my friendship with Max. First he was my teacher, there was a lot to learn about being a homeless person. You had to know where to go, and when to go, to get the help that was there. Los Angeles is friendly enough to homeless people, but the volume of the need can overwhelm it, you have to get to the places before they run out.
There were other ways to get by on the streets. You could deal drugs, marijuana, or crack. Easy enough to get into that, if you didn't mind selling yourself to that lifestyle.
Or you could sell yourself. I'd known about that sort of thing, of course, but it was driven home to me on my fifth day after meeting Max. A guy in a car pulled up and leaned over, opened his door to me and said, "Hello, there."
"Hello." I said hopefully. "Could you spare a dollar, so I can buy some food?"
"Got more than a dollar for you." the man said. "Get in and we'll talk about it."
"How much more?" I asked, leaning down and forward.
That was when Max walked up and said, "Thanks, but no thanks." and with one hand on my elbow, steered me firmly away. The alley where we made our beds at night was nearby and he led me into it, though it still was a good couple of hours until sunset.
I was as baffled as a virgin bride staring at the hard dick on her husband and no idea of what he intended to do with it. "What did I do wrong?" I asked.
Max turned to me like a father to a wayward child. "Don't ever get into a car with anyone." he said.
"I wasn't going to."
"That guy was bad news."
"You know him?"
"I know people like him. He wanted you to suck his dick. Or maybe he wanted to suck yours."
"I know that!" I said. Well, I did now I thought about it, that is. I had really gotten blinded by the promise of that money!
"So why were you about to get into his car with him?"
"I wasn't!" A lie.
"The hell you weren't!" Max said. "Linc, if you turn into a male whore, I'm...I'm not going to want anything more to do with you."
"Max, hey, Max!" I was upset at this. "I wasn't going to get in with him. But I thought...well, I thought...."
"You weren't thinking! You were going to get in the car with him."
"But I wasn't going to do anything with him!" I protested.
"Then why were you going to get in with him?"
"I...I...." I trailed off. "Max, I'm sorry." I said instead.
"God, Linc, God!"
"I'm sorry." I said. "It's just...he said he'd give me money." More than a dollar. How much more? With a twenty-dollar bill, a guy could eat for days if he was careful, nearly a week if he was real careful. So if I let a guy suck my dick for twenty bucks and could live for a week off of that, not have to beg and plead and wait in shelters' lines for nearly a whole wonderful week...what was wrong with that?
I stammered out all of this to Max, who listened to me with a sort of simmering patience, if you see what I mean. Like he was going to chew me out, but he'd wait until I had said it all, and could feel I wasn't interrupted or cut short or misunderstood when he blew his stack.
So when I finally wound down, he said, still with this barely-controlled patience, "Is that what you want to do from now on? Be one of those guys standing on the corner waiting to be picked up by the guys in the cars? Sucking their dicks, and hoping the guy won't be infected or crazy or planning to bash your head in and dump you in a dumpster somewhere? Is that what you want?"
"No." I said, and God help me, I sounded just like that kid at the McDonald's. Agreeing with him I was wrong without feeling I was doing anything wrong.
"So what do you want?" Max demanded.
"I want...I want...."
"What do you want?" He asked me again.
"I want to know where my next meal is coming from!" I said. "I want clean clothes to wear, and a home to go to and...and...and..."
"You want a warm home with a place before the fire and a kind master to scratch your ears and tell you you're a good little puppy while you suck his dick for him." Max said. That could have been heaped with scorn...but what it was instead, it was like he was describing my feeling.
"Uh-huh." I admitted.
"You're tired of being like a stray dog, living on the street." Max said.
"Uh-huh." I nodded.
"It's tough, being a stray." Max agreed with me. "Such a lot to do, and always and every day to do it, and it never gets any easier, ever."
"No." I agreed.
"Then if you think that guy in the car is going to give that to you," Max concluded. "I won't stop you next time." I looked at him and Max said. "But I will miss you." Which meant if I ever got into the car, he wouldn't be around when I came back.
I knew then I had to choose. I could keep Max and the life we now had, such as it was (as he had described it, difficult, messy and filled with nerve-wracking day-to-day scavenging) or try to get one of those guys in the cars to take me home, keep me with him like you adopt a pet dog. But if I started trying for that, I could plan to do it without Max.
With that on the line, my choice was easy. "I'd rather stick with you, Max." I said.
"It's the life of a stray." Max cautioned me.
"I know." I said. "But at least we're a pair of strays together."
"Sure you don't want to go out and suck cocks until you find a home?" Max lifted an eyebrow.
"I've got a home." I said. "With you."
Max smile. "Yes, you do, Linc. And me and you are partners, a pair of strays together against the world."
"Yeah." I agreed. "And if I do suck anyone's cock, it'll be yours, Max."
"Darned right you will." Max said. "If you're going to, that is."
"Yeah." I said.
"That's better." Max trailed off. "I mean, that's if you want to. You don't have to, I mean."
"I know." I said and I stepped over and my arms and Max's arms kind of intertwined. Not a hug, but our hands touched each other's arms and in a non-verbal way, I was asking and he was answering.
And when my hand cupped his basket, he didn't say anything but a soft sigh. "Linc." he then said.
"You're all I got, Max." I said. "You and me."
"You don't have to." He said, but it was a feeble protest.
"I know." I said. And I started working his fly open. His protests ended with that.
I had to get down onto my knees to get the zipper down, it's a two-handed job when you're facing it rather than wearing it. One hand at the top to hold it straight, the other to work the stubborn copper-colored zipper down the bumps that remain in a pair of jeans on a guy's body.
Inside was a whoosh of warm, dank air, permeated with Max's body aroma. It had been about three days since we had last managed to have a shower at the shelter. What hit me wasn't horrible...but it was pretty ripe. A powerful, heady dose of Max's crotch-sweat. A promise of what lay inside.
I still had the briefs to get open, a rather worn and pungent pair, but once they were tugged down and tucked under the rolling, loose, sweaty, hairy bag of his balls, they stayed out of the way. Now I had him exposed and available, a strong, sharp-ended tool of heroic proportions, that throbbed and begged me with small jerks to take it and take it now.
I did so, and as I slid the hard rod into my mouth, Max let out a series of interrupted sighing sounds, "Ah-ah-ah-ahh-ahhh!" Like his tenseness was all pouring out of him with those noises, and when he was done, the entirety of his being was focused upon his enjoying my mouth's attentions.
For myself, there was the flavor of his cock, just as strong and potent as the smell had promised it would be. Now I had the undiluted essence on my tongue, and the raw maleness of it was intoxicating. When you live on the street, alcohol is a special enemy, you must avoid it if you don't want to end up on the wrong end of a shiv one dark night when you pass out where you shouldn't. Control, that was what Max had taught me about living on the street. Do everything right, and you could make it. So this was a feeling I hadn't experienced much before, the feeling of my senses being overpowered, displaced and cast aside to make room for the emotion of lust. Like this was my chance to pull every ounce of the manhood out of Max's body into my own and make it over into my own clothing. Like I could drain Max into me and keep him inside at all times.
Max's hand came up and cupped the back of my head, not a compulsion but an encouragement. More, yes, more, his hand was saying. I slid my mouth down a bit deeper, felt the shudder race through Max's body when I did (the tops of his pubic hairs just tickled the tip of my nose), and then I was clutching tight and pulling up, the thick skin of his shaft rumpling and bulging on my tongue as I pulled it up with me, and it stuck and slipped over his glans and with each slip, Max slipped out a moan. "Hah-ah-hah-ah!"
So easy to suck on Max's cock, I thought, as I dove back down again. I had no feeling of being out of my element here, of not knowing how to make love to the thick, meaty shaft of Max's dong, it was like Max's cock fit my mouth perfectly, like it belonged inside me, like a threaded bolt fit inside a nut, the two linked and able to hold against all the stress you cared to bring against it.
We weren't going anywhere, or doing anything else. Who looks for a pair of strays to be somewhere on time? I sucked on Max's cock for a long, long time. We moved into different positions, Max moved from standing to sitting, to lying down on a slab of concrete which was the back of a business closed today, then I was lying down and Max was standing over me feeding me his cock, this was when I was getting tired and Max's hands kept my mouth moving on his dick.
We were back to Max lying back when Max, who had been groaning all along, suddenly said, "Oh, oh, Linc, I'm about to come Linc. Faster now, Linc, faster, uh, guh, uh!"
I did what I could, my lips ached from the effort, but those moans made me sure I didn't have to keep it up much longer. I sucked Max hard and fast as I could and Max groans rose in pitch and frequency, until they were a single, long, strained note, and then, the note rose in pitch to nearly a scream, and then burst apart into a million pieces, and when he did that, his cock squirted into my mouth. Long, ropy strands of hot jizz belted my tongue and tonsils, and the pure essence of Max poured into me, and I swallowed this essence, the nectar of existence, the ambrosia of life, and it filled and sated me in a way I hadn't known I needed. The worst part of being a homeless person is the lack of feeling like you belonged. Well, I belonged now, I belonged to Max and he belonged to me!
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Max groaned for some time even after his cock had stopped spurting, and I held his softening prick in my mouth until he finally stopped sounding off, just a bit of hard breathing.
"Now we belong together." I said to him as I let go and the wet, sloppy dick slapped against the bare skin of his lower stomach.
Max looked surprised, then he grinned. "Yeah, now we belong together."
"It's not a home with a fire and such." I said. "But it's a start."
"Is that what you want?" Max asked me.
I thought about it. "Yeah." I said. "I don't want to be on the street forever."
"We'll have to make a plan and stick to it." warned Max. "But I think we can do it if we work together."
"Yeah." I said and got up onto the slab with him and cuddled against him. It wasn't time to sleep, but the cuddling mattered. And when it was done, we'd start our plans.
We weren't going to be a pair of strays forever.
THE END
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