The Little Ghost Pt. 3 Friday Morning Walk & Early Afternoon at the Mall
It's been a long delay for this one, sorry. I hope you enjoy it all the same. The story is a fictionalized and condensed account of true life events. To answer a question many of you have asked: no, the Ghost and me are no longer "we"; I had to get out of the Army--you know what they say about the second chest wound--Ghost stayed in and went to war with President Bush; he's still in and we keep in touch sporadically. Remember to play, but play safe.
Thursday evening we fucked one more time, and then got to know each other. Ghost was a really talented visual artist: pencil, pen and ink, pastel, watercolor, and oils, and he plunked around on the guitar. When he found out I played, he wanted to hear me--I started playing classical guitar at age 4--I played Antonio Lauro's "Seis por derecho: Joropo" and a couple of his waltzes that I could remember; I also played Barrios's "Maxixe" and the "Suite Andina", all of which impressed him immensely, but what really knocked him out was a solo guitar arrangement of Astor Piazzolla's tango "Midnight in Buenos Aires." We spent the rest of the night playing and picking out tunes--he was good and quick to learn, but his fingers got tired--his second guitar was in pretty decent shape, but it had metal strings and was set high so it took some work to chord.
We slept together, and both woke up before 6 with serious morning wood; we kissed and started necking, and soon found ourselves in a cheerful 69, but before things went too far we suspended operations and adjourned to the shower. We resumed necking, and soon I sank to my knees and slurped that mighty 10" of black bone; within minutes he took me on all fours as the hot water rained down on us--I love being taken from behind--fucking me like a dog. After our preliminaries neither of us lasted long; he yanked out and shot his scalding sperm the length of my back--a gob even hit me in the back of the head--as I poured my nut honey out on the floor of the shower.
We recovered, washed each other off, dried and lotioned each other and dressed. We then cooked breakfast and played around on the guitars,
"You wanna go for a ride?" he asked later in the morning.
"Sure," I answered.
We got in my truck and headed off. We wound up in a park by the river, and decided to head up a trail and see what was to be seen. We hiked along for several minutes and when we paused to look we had climbed several hundred feet and had a spectacular view of the river below; we sat on a log for a few minutes, before we turned to each other and started kissing and soon we were necking, our hands roving over each other and under our clothes. Ghost broke the kiss,
"I wanna suck your dick," he stated, firmly grasping my package.
"I wouldn't stop you." He pulled me to my feet as he stood, and guided me behind a bush just off the trail; lickety-split my jeans were around my ankles, my dick was in the Ghost's very talented mouth, and I was head towards Nirvana. He bobbed and slurped and licked and sucked, swirling his tongue all around my dickhead. He paused for a second and sucked his fingers to get them wet and inserted them into my waiting ass. He finger fucked me as he edged me towards orgasm; after several minutes of this torture I couldn't hold back any longer, and with a low groan, I unloaded my seed into Ghost's eager mouth. As soon as my orgasm had subsided, he jumped up and, grabbing my head, forced his tongue into my mouth and pushing my nut from his tongue to mine. He pulled back and we both swallowed, I gasped,
"That was the hottest blow job I've ever had! Man! Fuck!"
I pulled my jeans up as I knelt in front of him; despite the devastating nut I'd just busted, my dick refused to deflate. I fairly ripped his pants down and engulfed his pride-and-joy taking him down to his pubes on the first go. I bobbed and swirled my tongue all around the head. He gasped and cursed above; I pulled off and turned him around and bent him over and dove tongue first into his super tight pucker; I rapidly lapped and tongue fucked his hole then spun him back around, I briefly sucked then spit on my finger and taking his bone back down my throat, I toyed with his entry and then inserted my middle finger and started message his prostate. Soon my labors were rewarded with gush after gush after gush of very tasty cock snot.
"Fuuuuccckkk!" he warbled, and then gasped, "got damn! That was . . . god damn, Fuuuccckkk!"
"You enjoyed that?" I asked sweetly.
"Yes," he gasped, too winded for repartee.
"Ain't nobody ever played with my ass like that," he explained, "it's usually sucky sucky to get it hard and fucky fucky `til we both nut. Damn that was somethin'."
We had recovered enough to head back down the trail; by this time more people were starting to fill the parking lot, so we headed off to get some lunch.
We headed across town to the mall; I noted for future reference that a dirty bookstore was just across the Interstate through an underpass. We parked and went into the mall headed to the food court and ate like recovered castaways. It was around noon, and we'd just finished eating and were about to explore the mall when Ghost's cell went off. I listened to this side of the conversation and watched as a sour expression took possession of SPC Baker's face. He rang off, and looked at me;
"Division HHC just got alerted--that was my squad leader--I got to get there ASAP for a formation--Fuckin' Stupid--and then we're free. Fuckin' assholes--it's a fuckin' long weekend. FUCK!"
"Is it post-wide?"
"Nah, just HHC--our First Sergeant and CO are pricks; they do this every third long weekend--`Because Headquarters personnel are on two hour recall unless on leave or under special circumstances such as school'--such fuckin' bullshit!"
"Well that makes up for not going to the woods all the time," I offered, "Why don't you take my truck, that way I won't go stir crazy an' you can get in uniform, get there an' get it over with--coo'?"
"Coo'," he responded as I handed him the keys, "I'll call you when I'm headed back."
"Okay," I said, "hopefully everybody shows up right away."
"Yeah, see ya' in . . . well, see ya'"
I smiled at that and off he went.
I wandered around the mall for a little while seeing what the stores had to offer, and surreptitiously checking out the guys. After about 20 minutes, one guy caught my eye; he was a very light skinned brotha with dark brown freckles across his broad nose, sexy cat-like green eyes, and a shock of kinky auburn hair in a high-n-tight; he was about 6'1", had broad shoulders and what looked to be a 28" waist with jeans riding low. We made subtle signals to each other and he gradually herded me to an isolated restroom on the upper level of the mall.
Once inside, after assuring we were alone, we stood next to each other at the urinals and openly checked out each others package. Homey had opened his pants and hung his shit over the waistband of his boxer--he was packin'! He had a long pale circumcised wiener with a head the color of a cherry, with a close cropped dark red bush and a nice, smooth, pale, hairless nut sac. I got a glimpse of his lower abs as well; dude was cut like a diamond. I liked what I saw. He must have too, because he directed me to the handicapped stall, and without putting his dick away, followed me in and latched the door. He slipped out of his T-shirt and dropped his pants below his knees and took a step toward me; his arms snaked out and pulled me to him--his mouth hungrily devoured mine as he tried to wrap his tongue around my tonsils--one hand gripped my ass; the other tweaked my nipples.
My mouth and hands were just as busy, as I tongue wrestled with him one hand explored his taught ass and the other stroked his cock--hard it looked like an 10" antique ivory tusk with a pink head and an inch or so at the tip almost the same color as mine--I dropped to my knees and started working' that bone. He started fucking my mouth, and then pulled out and spun around presenting me with his gorgeous ass. I split his cheeks with my tongue and tried to wrap my tongue around his tonsils from there--I couldn't reach `em, but he appreciated my effort--he turned around and pulled me to my feet after just a few seconds. Again he devoured my mouth and sucked my tongue; then he took a turn sucking my dick very competently and licking and sucking my balls and crotch.
While he was down there he fished a small tube of lotion from his pocket; when he stood up with it, I knew what time it was,
"You wanna fuck?" I suggested as kissed and licked my way toward his ear.
By way of response, he flipped the lid open and squirted a dollop into his hand and began to smooth it onto his ivory tool. I took a little and began to lube and loosen my tunnel of love. When he had finished, we briefly played tonsil hockey again and then he turned me around--the stall was big enough to land a helicopter in, and was arranged so that the toilet was closer to the next stall than it was to the corner--I gripped the grab bars in the corner and cooed softly as he rubbed that cherry head in my crack; soon he located his target and lined up on it; he paused for a beat and then began to press into my guts. I moaned and pushed back against his intruder, and soon he was buried to the hilt. He paused just a second, took a firm hold on my hips and then started to fuck at a rapid but pleasant pace--I started beating my weenie at the same pace; all to quickly, we were both approaching orgasm. I felt him start to lose rhythm and knew it was time--I let my nut fly just as he stifled a cry and pumped his load deep in my ass.
While still inserted in me he took my cell from my shirt pocket and dialed in his number and called his phone! He then redialed back to my phone as he pulled out.
"This is Teague. We will do this again," he pronounced speaking for the first time, leaving a message in my phone lest I forget--AS IF!
Grabbing his shirt, he slipped into the next stall. We cleaned up in silence and before I could flush he was gone. I glanced at my watch--it was 1242--quick but satisfying.
I did a leisurely circuit of the mall, and was just starting on one more when I got a call--it was Baker--the gist of our conversation was that two or three individuals hadn't shown up yet and his 1SG and CO were going to hold the rest of the company until they finally showed up, and it was "gonna be a while" before they were released. I told him I was cool with it, and besides there was nothing I could do about it so . . . Why get worked up. He seemed to relax a little at that, and with a sigh, hung up. It was 1300.
I was now at loose ends, so I sat down; I'd noted quite a few hotties, but all of them seemed to be with their wives or girlfriends, or they were traveling in groups of three or more; I glanced at my watch again, it was 1330--the thought of the dirty bookstore came unbidden to the fore of my mind--I was just about to decamp when I saw a Latin looking young man saunter past. Just for fun, I decided to follow him--not pressing or obvious--just going the same direction he was.
As I followed, I inventoried what I saw: tall, over six foot, slim, surely not a hundred and forty pounds; longish black hair, dark eyes, pencil thin mustache, handsome face, olive skin, and nearly perfect white teeth (he smiled and grinned a lot). The front of his black denim jeans showed promise--the back remained something of a mystery as they sagged low and the voluminous red T-shirt obscured a clear view. I continued to follow seemingly unobserved, until he ducked into a book store; when I followed, he was waiting for me at the back of the shop; while I pretended to be looking intently for something in the "women's health" rack, he quietly cleared his throat to get my attention; I looked over, as he looked at me, I saw his hands move so I glanced down--he had his uncut dick and balls in one hand and held up his pants with his other. I looked back at face and licked the drool from the corner of my mouth--
"Follow me if you want it," he breathed as he passed me to leave the store.
I followed--what else was I gonna do?--as he led me to a maintenance doorway; with a key, he opened the door and motioned for me to follow--I ducked in behind him as he locked the door back,
"¿Hay camaras volver aqui mi amigo?" (Are there cameras back here my friend?) I asked in Spanish as we walked down the hallway.
"Not back here," he explained in English, "I work here part-time n know all the security guys--this is the only area of the mall that's not covered," we stopped walking, "now, if you'll step into my office," he said as he gestured into the doorway where we'd stopped. I went into a small store room and glanced around; it held what looked to be window washer's gear, a couple of old office chairs, a desk, and a broken down old couch.
I turned back to hombre, and watched as he stripped off his T-shirt; he had nice abs and a sinewy chest with just a hint of definition, and the same for his arms. I dove for his right nipple and attached myself to it like a tick; when I started to kiss my way up to his neck something in the way he moved said, very definitively, `I don't kiss guys'. I shrugged and worked my way down to his navel, and then yanked his pants and boxers down. A very nice, very hard uncut 6-6 ½" dick greeted me. I peeled the foreskin back and slurped the exposed head into my welcoming mouth; I then sucked up and down the length of it briefly, and then flipped it up and lavished his hairless sac with my tongue sucking each and then both into my mouth; I then lapped into his crotch--
"Hold up," he said, kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and boxers; he turned to me and said, "Get outta the threads," I scurried to comply. Then he stepped over to the couch, I took note of the elaborate black work tramp stamp over his tail bone "Eat my ass," he demanded as he kneeled on the cushions and draped his upper body across the arm and thrust his pert little ass out. I started to work; first lapping his hole, and then sucking it--he moaned like a $3 hooker--then I started tongue fucking his tight pucker. He steadily pushed himself back onto my tongue, so he could look between his legs,
"Stroke your dick man--show Luis you like it--stroke that fuckin' dick."
I complied.
"I'm `bout ta nut man--"
"Permitanme a tragar su jugo de mi amigo," (Let me swallow your juice) I said as I extracted my face from his ass.
"Lie back on the couch--scootch down more," he instructed, again in English. As I lay face up, he slid back and sat his slick butt on my chest; I raised my head and sucked his dick.
"Oh yeah that's it man, suck that dick," he enthused, then drew himself back and raised up slightly, "Take my nuts dude," he cooed. "I wanna sit on you face; I'll pull back and nut in your mouth, okay?"
In an instant his hole was centered over my mouth and I did everything I could to lick the back of his eyeballs from there. Soon enough I heard him say, "Here it comes," as he pulled himself back and put his dick to my mouth; I opened up and felt five then six jets of hot salsa rope across my tongue. I then too the head of his dick into my mouth and milked the last of the juice from his stalk. He sighed contentedly then said,
"You ain't nut man?"
"It's cool," I responded, "It takes a little while sometimes; no biggie."
"I gotta be someplace"--he glanced at his watch--"in two minutes, but if you hang out I'll be back in a short-short; I'll find you n we can get biz-zay."
We had started to redress: I already had my pants back on and had my shirt in my hand when he gestured for me to pass him his pants, as I did so, his wallet fell out of his pocket; I handed him his pants then stooped down and retrieved his wallet--in the ID window on top was a HIGH SCHOOL ID card!--
"You're in high school?" I asked, my voice rising a little.
"Yeah, but it's cool--I'm past my 16th birthday," he responded with polished nonchalance.
"I don't know ki- . . . uh . . . Dude."
For the second time today, a relative stranger took my phone to call their own number and then Luis called my phone back and left his name. By this time we were dressed and nearing the door, Luis swooped in and kissed me,
"Don't worry Papi--it's okay, 16 is the age of consent here--you're safe," with an exaggerated Latino accent.
He smiled then and opened the door. I exited and went one way and Luis headed off in the other. That had been too close for comfort; I decided no matter what i saw, I was heading to the dirty bookstore at least in there everybody was 18 or older. It was about 1415 when I headed out across the parking lot. I was nearing the sidewalk when my cell rang--it was Baker again,
"Sup?" I said by way of answer.
"Yo, the missing dickheads haven't showed yet," he grumbled.
"The team chiefs are in with Top tryna' get him to release us--I heard `em yellin' at each other--in the mean time, we sit, dick in hand, and wait."
"I'm cool, Homes. Its okay, I can chill `til you get here, but . . . "
"But what?"
"But, I reserve the right to rape you and make you cum until you're relaxed again."
"I can sure deal with that," he replied with a smile obvious in his voice.
"I'll see you when I can see you naked."
"I will hold you to that!"
"Out."
"Out," he replied, and hung up.
I reached the sidewalk and headed under the freeway and then down the alley behind the bookstore. The alley itself was what had been the road before the freeway went through; the neighborhood was what you'd expect--the border between an industrial area and poor residential area--dirt and trash everywhere; sidewalk and streets in rough shape; high-rise housing projects close by. As I approached the back door I observed a number of men--mostly younger and predominantly black--hanging out; smoking and staring at me and each other. There were three way in to the bookstore from the alley: down a set of steps and into the basement, through a street level door, or up a short flight of steps to what was presumably the upper floor. I'd never been to a three story dirty bookstore--I was duly impressed!
I'll be posting the next segment soon and I'll try to complete the three story arcs I have running (A Very Good Day, in beginnings and interracial, and Danny and Me in Adult/Youth) some time before the vernal equinox (March 20-21). Thanks for reading.
As always, questions, comments and criticism are welcome send them to John at thelilghost06_nthesarge@yahoo.com Hope I hear from you soon. John