This is the continuation of Transit Trash. The author always welcomes comments and feedback @ cybercavan@hotmailcom. Copyright 2001 by Mick Maxell
The Second Coming Part I
"Believe in the Lord, or Perish!. Smite the Sinners, these Lepers in this Most Prideful of Cities or Surrender your everlasting soul to the Fiery Pit ! Oh Lord, lead us, Your Warriors, to the Site of Iniquity and make us Mighty in our Mission. Let us pray, let us work, for the destruction of those who would behave like beasts of the field, those who would befoul their humanity, those Unclean Men who would lie with other Men, who would penetrate each other with the staffs of Satan, who would... "
Caleb's face grew redder as his exhortations grew in violence. He stood in the aisle, his heavily-muscled arms stretched to the ceiling of the bus, fists clenched as sweat poured from his face and soaked his open- necked white tennis shirt. His erect tits pushed through the damp cotton fabric, standing proud on the hefty pecs. His thighs strained the tan cotton slacks as he stood, legs spread and slightly bent, as if he was bracing himself against the yet unseen forces of the Dark One.
Caleb's weapons in his crusade against Evil were his Faith and the compelling voice of his holy zeal. Only one passenger on the sparsely-seated bus noticed the more earthly weapon: the thick sword of flesh between Caleb's muscular legs, now apparently unsheathed and growing mightily as his lurid condemnations reached their crescendo.
"Behold, my brothers - Sodom!" With a dramatic gesture, Caleb pointed out the window at the tightly- bunched skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco.
The disciples, the sworn missionaries of the Church of Divine Holiness in God the Righteous, listened raptly, their eager rubbernecking at the Golden Gate Bridge momentarily suspended. Only the one passenger in the back of the bus ignored the vista, much more interested in observing just how and where the Spirit had moved Caleb.
The disciples had been stuck in the City-bound traffic for well over an hour, the result of a three-car crash somewhere ahead of them on Lombard Street which served as the entrance portal to San Francisco from the bridge. The ardor of the prayers that sustained them during the 300-mile journey from their remote mountain community had definitely waned in the face of the prosaic and prolonged aggravations of a traffic jam.
They were impatient to wrestle with the Devil, in this case represented by the mindless tools of Evil, the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, who were set to vote that evening on passing a domestic partners ordinance to same-sex couples and allow them to more easily adopt children. For Caleb and the disciples, the Time Had Come to Make a Stand.
Caleb's wise intervention had bucked them up; they suddenly saw the City in the proper and righteous light of Holiness for what it really was - the Viper's Nest, the Pit of Perversion, the Hallway to Hell, instead of the somehow magical vision of sparkling glass towers, gracious white stucco homes, deep green trees and blue ocean that first met their eyes.
San Francisco - a place so unlike the unyielding granite slopes of home, with its relentless summer heat and merciless winter winds from the nearby Sierras. Home was Corliss - a small and shrinking town in the foothills. Tourism had passed it by and the industries that had long fed its inhabitants had slowly dried up. In their place had come a new industry, called by its' critics, Religious Right, Inc.- of which Caleb was the leading local arbitrageur.
As Caleb took a breath in between rants, Gibby almost piped up and asked Brother Caleb where Gomorrah was, figuring it must be one of the suburbs they had just passed through. Gibby was the youngest of the disciples, just turned eighteen. He was real excited to be asked by Brother Caleb to go on the Mission. While he didn't always understand what Caleb was so mad about, all he knew was that he would do his bit to serve the Lord. And at six feet three and with 250 pounds of solid muscle, Gibby knew from Caleb that he was gonna be the Lord's linebacker if things got rough.
He scratched his thick strawberry blond thatch of hair, puzzlement in his baby blue eyes. Heck, the way the other disciples had talked about these sons of Satan, these ho-mo-sex-uals, Gibby didn't have nuthin' to fear - it sounded like most 'em were sissies afraid of their own shadows. Though, when Gibby got to thinkin' about it, the only genuine queer he had met was this long-haul truck driver who had picked him up when Gibby was hitchhiking back from up-country - he weren't no sissy. His face suddenly burned at the memory of that day.
When that big old Freightliner had pulled up, Gibby had said a prayer of thanks to the Lord. He had been standing there for an hour, afraid that it would be dark before he got home and he'd get heck from his godma who he was stayin' with 'til he graduated. He was still thankful as he hauled himself up into the cab of the truck , welcomed aboard by a dark haired dude about the same age as Gibby's dad.
They had shot the shit for a while, where the trucker was headed, how Corliss' football team had done that year, the usual stuff. The talk tuckered out and Gibby grew drowsy in the mounting heat. At the end of spring, it was beginning to get pretty hot and the driver apologized for the air conditioning being busted. Sweat was pourin' down the driver's neck, matting the dense dark hair peeping out from his tee-shirt. Finally, the driver asked Gibby to take the wheel for a second while he took off his t-shirt. Gibby obliged and steered the truck while the trucker quickly pulled off his soaked shirt
Gibby was used to seeing other guys with muscles at the gym where he worked out. This trucker, though, had the tightest muscles he had ever seen, more like whipcord than the chunky biceps and pecs that Gibby himself sported. Gibby guilelessly checked the trucker out, not noticing how the guy watched him out of the corner of his eye.
Regaining the wheel, the suddenly trucker turned to Gibby and said softly, "ya like what ya see, kid?" Gibby turned beet red and his mouth went dry. Without waiting for an answer, the trucker dropped his hand to Gibby's crotch, giving it a quick squeeze.
"Jesus, no! What are you...what the hell..heck do you think you are doing...Man, stop this truck, let me out, stop the fuckin' truck!" By this time, Gibby was almost screaming like a girl, he was so freaked out. He lurched away from the trucker, his large frame crammed against the door, looking as if he was going to faint. The trucker just gave him a slow smile, squeezed his Gibby's dick again and slowed the truck to a halt.
"Look, kid. No harm intended. I just thought you might wanna get your nuts off."
Gibby just shook his head violently in the negative..
"Seems a real shame, a great lookin' stud like you, wasted on some hometown prom queen. Jeez, if I was as hot as you, I'd have 'em lined up just waiting.," drawled the trucker. "Too bad, I coulda really shown you a good time." He shook his head ruefully but with no embarrassment.
By this time, Gibby had somewhat calmed down. The trucker's soft unhurried manner and his total lack of aggression steadied Gibby. Besides, he was unaccountably flattered that the pervert found him attractive and was suddenly curious what he meant by a 'good time.'
Gibby was a virgin, despite his good looks and Herculean body and he had only the vaguest notion what queers did with each other. All he really knew that he was beginning to get hard. He dropped his eyes to his crotch in dismay. "Oh Lord, please save me," he thought frantically. His body seemed to be controlled by his manhood, rampaging horniness and curiosity communicating itself to the driver who was lazily watching him, a slight smile on his face, one dimple showing in his lined cheek. .
"Just let me taste it, just once and then you can be on your way. No one will ever know." Words said in a smoky whisper. The trucker's hand began to slowly pull down Gibby's zipper, tenderly stroking the hardening mound under the denim. " I am damned," thought Gibby, dimly aware that damnation felt awful good.
Gibby's mind was in a whirl. While he knew that this trucker must be one of those Unholy Perverts who Caleb had warned him against, he couldn't help but noticing what soft brown eyes and what a nice smile the guy had,. And Lord preserve him, that hand sure felt good on his dick. The trucker continued unzipping his pants and then slipped his had inside Gibby's boxers.
The boy gasped as he felt the hot hard hand close around the rigid shaft of his dick. Gibby closed his eyes, begging for forgiveness. It was the signal the trucker had been waiting for. He lowered his head and gently began to suck Gibby's big fat dick. When the hot moist mouth wrapped around his dick head, Gibby knew that, while he surely goin' to Hell for this, he was, at that moment, in Heaven.
It didn't take long; the expert mouth on the inexperienced boy resulted in a spectacular, sin-filled orgasm. And true to his word, the trucker let Gibby off at the next exit and headed off into the sunset. In the subsequent months, Gibby had managed to bury the incident deep in the back of his mind, which was neither very deep nor tenacious.
Gibby looked out the window at the City again which had gradually become visible as the bus inched through the tunnel from Marin County. Reflecting on Caleb's description of the City, he thought it was kinda strange. While Brother Caleb must certainly know better than Gibby what the entrance to Sodom looked like, those rose colored high- rises, bright with the setting sun, sure looked pretty, hardly what Gibby had pictured it to be. But, wasn't that the point - the Devil was real good at setting pretty snares for the unwary - snares like that trucker. Gibby shifted in his seat, his tight jeans suddenly seeming a size too small. A fresh blast of invective from Caleb caught his attention and the sins of the past slid off the slippery surface of his mind.
From his deliberately isolated post at the back of the bus, Josh turned his face away from Caleb, hatred and something else burning in his heart. His eyes had followed Caleb's uplifted arms and hard biceps, had watched Caleb's huge chest grow with every intake of breath as the staccato preaching grew more vehement until Josh thought that the tight cotton shirt would split at the sweat-soaked seams. And as he watched Caleb's basket grow bigger and bigger, Josh felt a straining in his own dick, a feeling which just further confused his already fucked-up head.
The only reason Josh had agreed to come on this stupid-ass "mission" was cuz his mama told him to and moreover, had threatened to kick his sinful ass out the door if he didn't. As always, she cared more that retard Gibby, his cousin and her godson, than she did for her own flesh and blood. Josh's job was to keep Gibby out of trouble and bring his precious ass back home in one piece from big, bad Babylon.. Josh snorted - as if a dude as big as Gibby couldn't take care of himself, even if he was dumb as a bag of rocks. Besides, Gibby was the spear carrier for Brother 'my-shit-don't-stink' Caleb and the good reverend wouldn't let nuthin' happen to his pet gladiator ! He glanced through the window staring out at the sunset-burnt ocean, immersed in his own bitter thoughts.
Josh didn't give a shit about the "mission"; all this Bible talk bored him senseless. He had looked at the so- called "Righteous Christians" in his community and couldn't see a damn bit of difference 'tween them and anyone else. In fact, he found most of Brother Caleb's "disciples" to be fuckin' ignorant and way too ready to turn over what little cash and independence of mind they had over to Caleb. And Josh felt that whatever shit two men or two women did in bed was their own fuckin' business.
He regarded the evangelist angrily. Caleb had finished his tirade and his face had returned to more of what Josh remembered from high school. He and Caleb were the same age, in fact. They had run wild as boys in the forests and streams surrounding their country town; Jake and Caleb always whoopin' it up, raisin' shit and causin' trouble, never bothering about tomorrow.
Then Caleb had joined the Army and got posted to Bosnia. Something happened over there - something Caleb never discussed with Josh or anyone else, as far as he knew. But when Caleb came home two years before his hitch was up, he started readin' the Bible and staying home. No more motorcycle races at two in the morning, no more smokin' pot and drinkin' Wild Turkey down by the river. No more hot and sweaty double fucks with Lu and Tina, the insatiable sluts of Corliss, in Caleb's van.
Josh grabbed his crotch, hard from just thinkin' of those hot nights. They would park the van at the roadside overlook high on the above the river, a favorite spot for locals to fuck around and do drugs. Caleb had put some big money in the van's sound system and installed wall to wall padding. - perfect for fucking all night long. Lu and Tina, always ready for a hot ride on some hard dick, would have their panties off in a second.
Josh just loved to watch as Caleb and Lu paired off. Lu was tiny and perfectly formed; Caleb was huge with big muscles in his ass from all those years of football. Josh used to lie there while Tina blew him, watching Caleb's glutes bunch up and relax as he shoved his big red meat over and over again into the moaning Lu, his dangling balls slapping in rhythm.
As cars swung around the bend in the road, their headlights would repeatedly strafe the tangled figures, first lighting up Caleb's plunging, beefy ass and then dance along the curves of the massive shoulders and arms and finally the top of his bent head, all in a second.. As Lu started whimpering, Caleb would really start pumpin', the sound of his panting and the smell of his sweat fillin' the van. Funny, though, Caleb would never shoot his load inside Lu, instead he would pull out just as he was cumming, arch his back and spray his load all over his s tomach and chest. Sometimes, if the cars came along at the right time, the headlights would catch the flying load and make the globs of sperm light up like fireflies caught in a stobe light. Caleb's huge dick would be bursting out of his doubled up fists, his hands a flying motion in the dark And occasionally, Josh would get splattered by Caleb's fountain of jism.
Once, on a night when he had gotten really high, Josh had actually licked some of his buddy's sperm off his arm. It was the same night Josh had experienced his most intense orgasm, but he would never admit the connection. All he remembered was the hot salty taste and the sight of Caleb's dripping dick and his hard belly shiny with cum and sweat slippin' off the edge of his hairy pecs. And the overwhelming desire to take his buddy's softening meat in his mouth and swallow the rest of his sticky load. It was that thought that had pushed Josh over the top and he had shot an almighty load into Tina's hot mouth, causing her to choke and then swear at him. He heard Caleb laugh lazily in the dark and felt, or imagined he felt, his buddy's hand glance along his naked thigh, like he had read Josh's mind.
Those spunky days were over. Caleb was full of nuthin' but endless God-talk and self-righteousness now. Caleb had turned away from his friend overnight, leaving Josh angry, bewildered and hurt. So why the hell was he on this stupid bus and why, when he looked at Caleb's bulging crotch did the taste of salt fill his mouth and his heart to ache?
The bus began to move again, causing the disciples to loudly praise the Lord and begin singing their warrior song, Onward Christian Soldiers, as they lumbered into the twilight towards their target.
\\\ In another part of the City
Chuckie stubbed out the joint hastily. He and GD had just scored some major pot and didn't wanna wait for their buddies to arrive up before lighting up. So maybe the plaza in front of San Francisco City Hall in the hazy light of early summer evening wasn't the most discreet place to do a dube but shit, they let the homeless crazies pee in the fuckin' flowers in front of the mayor's palace, didn't they?
The police car that nailed the two bike messengers with its spotlight had come out of nowhere - the pigs were getting' mighty sly these days. GD, totally zonked, had squinted into the light, laughing like an idiot. Worse yet, as the car slowed down, he turned around like a whirling dervish, ripped down his bike shorts and shot the pigs a major moon, his muscular ass glowing in the searchlight. You could hear the cops laugh and one of 'em, a black dude, shouted, "great ass, what else ya got?" before the car moved on.
Chuckie choked with laughter, the hastily-swallowed smoke sticking in his craw, causing him to start coughing. GD hadn't pulled up his shorts, but stood there, his enormous meat getting hard as he gave the departing cop car the finger, shouting, " come on back, y'all. Always glad to do my citizen's dooty and help out our boys in bluuueee..."
GD was living la vida loco for sure these days . And the sight of his giant white dick and shaved balls reminded Chuckie of the strange road he and GD had traveled in the last month.
Chuckie had never much liked GD, figuring him to be a big-time honky racist. He couldn't figure out what this white trash punk was doing working for CitySlash, the hottest messenger service in San Francisco. 'Slash had the best stable of cycle freaks in the City and the 'Slashers were interested in one thing - how quick and how cool you could do your tags - nuthin' else mattered. Especially not the color of your skin, what drugs you did or who or what you fucked. Just show up on time, beat the dispatcher at his game and leave your mark without getting caught.
GD and Chuckie had had a run-in just a week or so after GD had started. A half dozen "Slashers were in the dispatch station, just hangin'. Tommy the Tool was bitchin' about his flaky lover Fernando, how the creep fucked around on him, sneaking into the jack-off clubs when Tommy was pedaling his ass up and down the hills of the City. This was about the tenth time the 'Slashers had heard the complaint so Geenah told Tommy to stop whining, tie the cheap little trick up and fuck him until he bled. Typical Geenah solution - she had done time after slicing her boyfriend pretty bad after finding him in bed with her sister.
Tuba had then suggested that Tommy just get hisself another piece of south of the border ass, cupping his genitals suggestively. Everybody had roared, knowing that Tuba (Luis to his ma) had the major hots for the hopelessly love-snared Tommy.
GD had listened to the exchange of advice and badinage with a disgusted expression on his face, finally storming out of the room, nearly knocking Chuckie off the stool on he was perched on. Chuckie barreled through the door after him and grabbed GD by the shoulder.
"What the fuck's wit' you, dude? You gotta problem?"
GD ground his teeth. "Fuckin' faggot - makes me want to puke."
Chuckie stared at GD. "So maybe you should get your bible-belt ass out the door cuz Tommy is the best fuckin' rider in this fuckin' company and has pulled my ass - and others - out of the fire more than once. And if you don't like the fact that he fucks boys, then you are in the wrong shop, fucker, cuz there are a lot weirder trips goin' down than Tommy's."
GD spat. "No doubt - what the fuck could I expect in this fuckin' freak show of a town. A decent white Christian don't have a fuckin' chance."
Chuckie starting laughing uproarously, his dreads' shaking, making GD even angrier. "You got that right, honky - any "decent white Christians" should get the hell outta Dodge before some faggot nails their pretty, tight ass - or some crazy black man carves his initials on their lily white faces." The last comment was said with lethal malice.
GD stared at Chuckie for a long moment, the tension palpable. Then, he was gone into the foggy San Francisco night, pedaling furiously to the train station in order to catch the last fuckin' train outta Sodom to his cheap digs in Oakland, turning Chuckie's comments and threats over and over in his mind as he rode. Smoking a joint outside the station had not helped.
Chuckie didn't see GD for a couple of weeks after that. Chuckie was going to SF State at night and had cut back on his hours as finals drew near. When he finally did see GD again, Chuckie had cooled off. He had spent his whole life dealin' with crazy white folk - why he let this redneck shithead get him so riled was a mystery. He figured GD wouldn't last at 'Slashers anyway.
So, he was real surprised to see GD still there. And even more surprised when GD took him aside during the shift and asked him if he would like to get high. Puzzled, but never one to turn down smoke, Chuckie agreed.
They met at the end of their shift down by the Mission Bay end of the Embarcadero. GD was leaning up against a lamppost, the fog swirling around him as Chuckie rode up on his Gary Fisher.
"Yo, GD, 'wuz'hap'nin? "
GD glanced up at Chuckie and smiled. A real smile. Like GD was actually glad to see him. And shit, when he smiled like that, well, he was a pretty good lookin' dude.
Chuckie had always admired GD's style on a bike, like his body was designed for a two wheeled existence - long, lean, muscular - aerodynamic. And you could hardly help noticing that GD was hung pretty big for a white guy, what with him wearing those tight lycra bike shorts. Now, Chuckie, he preferred to wear cut off beach pants over his bike shorts. He had gotten tired of having all those chicks (and lotta dudes) at reception desks checkin' out his huge black dick and nuts when he wore just the shorts, like he was some kind of walkin' porno show.
"Hey, Chuckie," drawled GD in his soft southern accent. He dug in his fanny pack and whipped out a fat joint, a goofy grin on his face. Chuckie returned the smile. They lit up, both sucking in major hits. They passed the joint back in forth in silence as the fog grew denser and the City disappeared block by block. The foghorn began its eerie moaning.
"Listen, Chuckie...I wanna...you know a couple of weeks ago...when I said those things...y'know...I was really pissed off and...I dunno...confused.
GD stumbled to a stop. Chuckie took a hit, his eyes squinting in the smoke as he took in the halting explanation.
"Anyhow, all I wanted to say was that I was an asshole...and you was right to call me on it. Folks here are different...real different. And I gotta deal with that.. like, just relax and let people be who they are. Like Geenah... like Tommy."
GD glanced at Chuckie nervously, trying to see if he was reaching him. Chuckie exhaled and passed the joint back to GD.
" So, white boy, is this an apology?"
GD sheepishly lowered his eyes, missing the teasing tone in Chuckie's voice. "Yeh...I mean...like...I'm really...sorry, dude "
Chuckie laughed and mocked punched GD's iron hard chest. "No problem, GD. Just kiss my sweet black ass and all will be forgiven."
GD's blue eyes flew up to Chuckie's laughing face, his skin turning pale. "Wha...what did you say?" he stammered. The black stud stared at him quizzically, taken aback by GD's reaction to his joke.
" Kiss my black ass...you know, a joke, GD. Jeez, dude, you gotta lighten up if you gonna ride with the 'Slashers long. We be a pretty rough crowd and our sense of humor is...well.. it be pretty fuckin' twisted."
"Oh...yeh...right." GD glanced away from Chuckie into the thickening fog, obviously embarrassed.
Chuckie, feeling sorry for the poor jerk , decided to change the subject.. He took another hit and asked GD, "So, my man, 'always wanted to know, just what does 'GD' stand for?"
The white biker turned deep red, his embarrassment visibly increasing. Amused, Chuckie pressed his inquiry. "So...what....'Georgia Dipshit'?... 'Gopher Dung'.. what?"
GD glanced at Chuckie imploringly. "It's stupid...it's nuthin...really'."
Chuckie snickered nastily. "Must be somethin' pretty shameful to wanna hide it so bad. "
GD, nettled by the sarcasm, blurted out, "Giant Dick."
It was Chuckie's turn to be embarrassed; his recent thoughts about GD's cock rushing forcibly back.
Recovering his cool, Chuckie said, " That's quite a handle, GD. Hope you live up to it. Being a black man, you understand, I gotta take that claim with a grain of salt," he said with a shiteating grin.
GD straightened up and said challengingly, "Well, Chuckie, it ain't just black men who got big dicks. Some of us white guys are as big or even bigger than y'all."
"Like hell you are," boasted Chuckie, aware of a strange tingling feeling in his crotch. "I ain't met a white boy yet who comes even close to me, whether they be called "Giant Dick" or 'Long John Silver.'"
The pot seemed to doing strange things to the black biker's head; he never would have gotten into this ridiculous teenager bullshit otherwise or felt the beginnings of a major hard-on as a result of talking about dicks, for fuck's sake.
"Oh yeh, well, getta load of this, Chuckie my man." GD stubbed out the joint on the lamp -post and palmed it. With his other hand, he defiantly jerked down the front of his shorts, exposing his dick to the cool night air. He grabbed his hose and shook it out.
Chuckie couldn't help gaping at the sight. 'Giant dick' was an understatement - GD's cock was huge, way over ten inches, hard and as thick as bottle of Miller Lite. The head was the size of tennis ball and GD had totally shaved his pubes.
Chuckie swallowed. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? If he whipped his own meat out, GD would see just how turned on he was and that would never do.
"Whoa, dude. Okay, I'll buy that some white dudes have big dicks. And that 'GD' is right on. Bet the chicks just love to swing on that muthuh."
GD started to pull his shorts up and muttered, "yeh...right...the...chicks...sure do."
Chuckie suddenly felt disappointed. He realized that he had really gotten off looking at GD's meat - that he would like to more than look at it, maybe even taste it. The pot streamed from his brain straight to his dick.
Chuckie reflected that he didn't really give a shit if a person was gay, straight, bi or into blow-up dolls; hell, his older brother Tyrone was gay and lived in NYC with his lover, Shawn. And last summer, Chuckie had visited them for a week. Tyrone ran his own business and worked long hours. Two nights before he came back to the City, while Tyrone was at his shop, Chuckie and Shawn had gotten pretty wasted and ended up in bed. It was mighty weird but very, very hot. Since then, Chuckie had sorta checked out guys in an objective way, not lookin' for gay sex but not ruling it out, either.
"Okay, GD. Let's see who is the bigger man, shall we?" Chuckie said, forestalling GD's further moves. The white biker just stared at him. Taking advantage of his silence, GD unbuttoned his cutoff surf pants and lowered them, revealing the neon green bike shorts. His hard-on poked two inches above the waistband; the shaft was like a baseball bat inside the tight nylon shorts.
GD dropped his eyes, which widened in disbelief. Chuckie peeled the shorts away from his skin and pulled them down over his sinewy thighs. His cock fell free like a downed redwood, twelve inches of solid brown flesh, still not fully hard.
Chuckie boldly reached forward and grabbed GD's dick, letting his fingers run sensuously over the hot white bulk of it. He pulled GD closer and drew the two cocks along side of each other. Chuckie's dick was the bigger but GD's wasn't too far behind.
"Well, well, GD. Looks like black is better, for sure. Though it's hard to be sure when my dick sure ain't hard" he joked nervously, not meeting GD's eyes.
"I can fix that, Chuckie, if you want."
Chuckie stared up at GD, not sure that he heard the hot stud correctly.
"And, pray tell me how, my man?"
GD laughed kinda crazily and said, "Like a dude I met recently said, 'why don't you bring that sweet Nubian meat over here and let me show you.' "
"Nubian meat? Who the fuck you been hangin' wit', GD?"
"The best, Chuckie, simply the fuckin' best."
GD bent over, his hands sliding down Chuckie's exposed thighs. The white biker rested his forehead against the Chuckie's flat stomach and smiled.
Two weeks ago, he had been just another scared, in-the-closet redneck, lost in the big bad city and wanting to go home. Then, on that fateful evening, pissed after his tense encounter with Chuckie, he had gotten really high and acting way stupid, had picked a fight with this queer Irish dude on the trans-Bay train.(Transit Trash I) The hot foreigner had beaten GD with his fist and his belt and had then mercilessly fucked GD' virgin ass. The biker still had faint yellow bruises on his butt from that night. And on that same never-to-be-forgotten train ride, GD had sucked his first dick - a huge black dick belonging to one enormous black cop, who, after scarin' the shit outta GD, had proceeded to kiss him like no chick had ever kissed him. It had been the most miraculous, painful and glorious night of his life: it had changed him forever.
And after two weeks of soul-searching and dick-beating, GD had come to the conclusion that his life here in San Francisco was meant to be. That a whole world of new people and new ideas was his, just for the taking. That all the attitudes he had been force-fed as a kid - by his folks, by the preachers, by his white trash buddies, were simply total bullshit. And, finally, he realized that he was gay.
His apology to Chuckie was sincere; so too was his desire to get that mighty piece of black meat in his mouth. Since his run-in with the black cop and the Irish dude, GD had craved dick. Still working through his feelings, he had not acted on the knowledge that he was queer until he had seen Chuckie come through the doors of CitySlashers tonight.
GD had suddenly realized that Chuckie had been the only 'Slasher who had tried to help him understand that bewildering tangle of addresses and business protocols during that first scary week on the job; the only one who had helped him find a bike shop that wouldn't rip him off, who had told him where to find cheap lodgings in the patchwork series of communities which comprised the Bay area, who had tried to make him feel welcome. In short, Chuckie had taken the time to treat him right, like a fellow human being. And tonight, GD intended on returning the favor.
The white biker stuck out his hot tongue and began to trace a slow trail down Chuckie's pelvis, following the line of well-defined muscle into his pubes. He heard the black rider's quick intake of breath and smiled again. Grazing his lips over the stiff bush, he found the base of the huge black dick. He flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive junction of cock and pelvis, delighted when Chuckie's cock began to jump in response. GD parted his moist lips, allowing just the slightest bit of teeth to show and ran his mouth slowly down the thickening foot long dick. The combination of hot, wet lips and the slight edge of hard teeth caused the black biker to moan. Chuckie grabbed the back of GD's head in response, relishing the feel of the soft blond hair and the tense neck muscles. He dropped his hands to GD's shoulders, sloped them down the beautifully muscled trapezius to the top of the hard biceps and around to the redneck's back.
Curling his fingers, his grabbed GD's cycling jersey and began to pull it up, exposing the tapering white back and soft almost invisible hair on the his tailbone which had caught drops of fog and glistened in the hazy streetlight.
Chuckie was oblivious to the fact that they were on a public street, all he wanted was to see GD's hot naked torso and the rest of the body he had so frequently admired as the redneck had ridden his bike like a surfboard through the City streets, a two-wheeled artist of loco-motion.
GD left off his sensual assault on Chuckie's glorious cock and looked up. The fog had thickened sufficiently to conceal them from the street and passing cars but GD didn't want a casual pedestrian to stumble upon them. He whispered to Chuckie. "Dude, there's an alley right behind us. Come on and follow me."
Chuckie snapped out of his lustful fog and laughed. "Sure don't know what was in that weed, due, but all ya gotta do is ask and I shall obey." GD smiled again and teased Chuckie, "I'll keep that in mind."
Grabbing their bikes, they felt their stoned ways to a side street and then further into the dense black hole of a one way alley. The sounds of the City disappeared and the clicking of their bicycles sounded spookily in the darkening light. Three stories up, a security light on the side of a building threw down an inadequate cone of light in the dense fog.
Without a word, GD stripped off his jersey, pulled off his shorts and stood there, naked except for his riding shoes in the cool half-light. Chuckie couldn't believe how beautiful the dude was, like some Teutonic dream out of a myth - tall, blonde and with that enormous dick wavering like an enchanted weapon.
The black biker roughly pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them, the chill foggy air sending goose bumps up his taut black ass. No fog could chill his dick, though. He was totally hard and upright, the head of his cock tapping right below his sternum. Chuckie had never been this turned on. He had long stopped thinking about what the hell any of this meant. All he wanted was to put his hot black hands on that huge white dick, to grab that perfect white ass that he had seen so many times perched above the bike seat. An ass that had been a fuckin' miracle of muscle and motion, mesmerizing Chuckie as he had followed GD up the killing slopes of San Francisco's hills on his bike, laboring to keep up with the redneck daredevil.
As if he had read his mind, GD turned slowly, sensually running his strong hands down and over the smooth cheeks. He turned his head over his shoulder, and said in a pot-thickened voice, "Hey, bikeboy, why don't ya come over here and stick your hot pink tongue up my white hole? Ya know you want it, just like I want your big black dick in my mouth."
Chuckie couldn't believe it. The GD he had known, the bigoted redneck who had been such a pain in the ass and the butt of so many jokes among the 'Slashers as being a total hillbilly dweeb, had suddenly turned into this fuckin' warlock, able to make Chuckie go weak at the knees and do his every bidding.
The black biker moved slowly, unable to take his eyes off that ass. GD had begun to run his fingers up and down his crack, teasing the hidden hole and smiling that witchy smile the entire time.
Chuckie approached GD and reached out to stroke his ass. His hands trembled with horniness as he cupped the perfect cheeks. Shit, they were hard as marble but warm as a puppy's breath. Chuckie squeezed them softly and GD let out a sigh. Sliding his palm down the hairless surface, Chuckie slapped one cheek, not hard, but with enough sting to make GD groan deep in his throat.
Oho! So, this redneck cocktease got into a little slap and tickle? Chuckie smiled and his gave GD another real good crack. This one forced the white biker up against the brick wall, his arms splayed above his head to stop his forward motion. With his arms and legs spread, and the fog condensing on his ass cheeks, GD had assumed the classic "up against the wall" from Chuckie's favorite cop movies. The black rider laughed to himself; this time it was the white dude about to be frisked by the black man instead of the reverse. Well, there wasn't much of GD that couldn't been seen with the naked eye so maybe a full body search was needed!
Chuckie dropped to his knees and roughly grabbed GD's ass. With his strong brown hands, he pried the cheeks apart and with no warning and no finesse, plunged his tongue straight into GD's pulsing hole. The redneck gave a yelp of surprise and then started laughin' like a crazy man. Clearly the monster weed they had just smoked had got straight to the hot stud's brain, thought Chuckie. He looked down at this own aching dick and reflected that the weed had gone to his dick, leaving his brain clear: a great combination! He furiously tongue fucked the sweet pink hole, drilling deeper with every thrust until he couldn't breathe, so deep was his face buried in GD's ass. The white biker was groaning audibly, his moans uncannily echoing the sounds of the distant foghorn out in the Bay.
Chuckie began to chew softly on the insider of GD's cheeks, little lust nips that brought that sexy growl outta the redneck's throat. Chuckie then layered spit up and down GD's crack 'til it was slippery as a slalom track. He rose from his knees, grabbed the meaty log of black cock and slapped it between GD's cheeks. Flexing at the knees, he slid the rigid length up and down the slobbery crack. Grabbing GD's waist, he began to buck his hips faster and faster, the top of his cock tickling the biker's lower back and Chuckie's heavy sweat balls swinging up and down like church bells, crashing into GD's shaved sac and bruising his balls.
Fog and sweat collected on GD's neck back and shoulders. Chuckie stared down on the beaded moisture which under the diffuse light, looked like diamonds on a white silk. God, was GD beautiful! Chuckie lowered his head, his soft dreads tickling GD's sensitive skin. He began to lick the sweat off the expanse of white shoulders, his baby-soft lips sending chills up GD's spine. He crammed his impossibly huge dick further into the hot valley between GD's cheeks and stopped, wanting to stay there, hard and hot forever. GD had other ideas. He spread his legs wider and grabbing his own cheeks, spread them so the length of black dick was fixed even more firmly. Then GD began to raise up and down on his toes, his powerful calves and thighs, pistoning his ass to beat the sweaty length of GD's swollen black meat.
Chuckie circled GD with his wiry arms and hugged him tight, knowing that he was going to shoot his load real soon. GD leaned his head back onto Chuckie's shoulder and continued his pumping. Chuckie , staring at that white throat and full lips, felt somethin' tug at his heart. Acting on impulse, he bent his heads and kissed GD on the lips, hardly believing how soft and warm they were and how good GD felt in his arms.
GD responded to the kiss with passion. In spite of his lust, in spite of the pot, he knew that this was it, this was he wanted - a man's arms around him, to be held and kissed and wanted. He clenched his ass and felt the heavy weight of hot dick. Oh, to be fucked by Chuckie! But even as he thought it, he knew that it was too soon, that he didn't want to be in this just for a quick fuck in the fog.
Easing himself out of Chuckie's arms and reluctantly letting the massive meat slide away from his crack, GD turned and faced his buddy. They looked into each other's faces for a long moment. And then kissed again. Chuckie suddenly clenched GD to him in a breathtaking embrace and as he did so, shot his wad all over GD's chest and stomach, his wiry body trembling uncontrollably.
GD laughed again, sweetly this time. He felt as happy as if he had just shot his own load, delighting in Chuckie's pleasure. And even happier when Chuckie began to apologize for shooting before GD could get off, for makin' a mess, for...GD stopped further self-recriminations with another kiss.
"Dude, what happened here was enough for me. It was great, you are so fuckin' hot and I am SO FUCKIN" HAPPY TO BE LIVIN" IN THIS CRAZY CITY! " GD shouted the last words, causing them to bounce off the brick walls lining the alley and into the night.
Chuckie started laughing, too, more quietly but with the same sense of celebration that GD felt. There they were: one loco recovering white trash fundie, butt naked, gallons of cum dripping down his perfect torso and with this shit-eating grin on his face and one street-smart rasta' man getting' an advanced degree in between delivering messages, smokin' pot and slide-fuckin' a white boy in a dark alley with his twelve inch hammer - and quite possibly fallin' in fuckin' love with the same white trash loco dude he had known for just a month! Where else but in San Francisco? He laughed louder this time.
"Hey dudes' what's the joke?" GD and Chuckie looked up startled as pair of halogen lights pierced the fog into the alley.
In another part of the City
The bus finally eased off the bridge as the disciples finished the last chorus of their song. The driver got on the intercom and told them that because of the traffic mess, they were goin' to take a detour through the Presidio and go the back way to their hotel on mid-town Market Street. And since there were several veterans on the bus, no one objected to the ride through the now-closed Army based. Of course, it hardly looked like a base, what with all the trees and quiet homes. Fact was, damn near everything was different here in Sodom, as if somebody had painted over the harsher realities of life with a soft haze, makin' things pretty and dream-like. The snares of Satan once more at work.
The heavy vehicle chugged through the winding roads of the base and exited into the busy traffic and began weaving its way through increasingly narrow streets, the diesel engine wheezing as it lumbered up hills that grew steeper by the block. They reached a crest and the disciples let out a collective sigh. Below them stretched the City, radiant in the setting sun, the waters of the Bay even bluer than Gibby's eyes and about as empty. All the scene lacked was Satan offering the world to them in return for their souls.
The bus eased over the top of the hill, began its descent and then stopped. They were on the wrong street. An increasingly impatient Caleb was worrying over the city map with the driver who had stopped the bus, both of them bewildered by the tangle of one way streets and lack of signs.
Gibby stared out the windows, charmed against his will by San Francisco with its brightly painted houses with their curtainless bay windows and those multicolored flags everywhere. Suddenly, he swallowed, his delight evaporating and something like panic taking its place. It couldn't be! Lord save him, it was two men holding hands as they walked down the steep street. Gibby glanced up at Caleb, frantically trying to get his attention, worried that his leader didn't know that they had crossed the threshold into the heart of Sodom!
Alone at the rear of the bus, Josh was looking out the opposite side of the bus. Since the stopped bus was perched so high and the street so steep, Josh's window was level with the second floor of the old-fashioned houses. And there, not ten feet from his face was an incredible scene that caused his heart to knock loudly in his chest , turned his dick cement hard in a matter of seconds and made him wonder if he had lost his friggin' mind. .
In a big brightly lit room under a harsh unshaded light stood a group of men, their backs against the wall; all of 'em watching the show in the center of the room. Josh swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. It couldn't be! What he saw was a really rough lookin' biker type with a shaved head, goatee and tattoos savagely sucking the tight hairy tits of an older guy dressed in a leather vest and nuthin' else! The sweaty biker had a really evil grin on his face that forcibly brought back to Josh all those warnings from Caleb how gay men were possessed of the Devil. The rough dude's massive pumped chest was glistening with sweat and he had some sort of metal thing linked between his huge erect nipples, like the security chain on a door. Even Josh's former fuck Tina didn't have those kind of two inch nubby tits standing up so red and raunchy.
The older leather dude's head was thrown back in an ecstatic way that tickled Josh's memory, until he suddenly remembered Caleb doin' the same when he shot his load those many hot nights ago. Hypnotized by the sight, Josh's eyes noted that the biker was in skin tight jeans, now half opened at the crotch. A red bandana was stuck in his back pocket and he had a pair of handcuffs clipped to his belt. Turning his amazed stare on leather guy', Josh gulped - his dick was the biggest one Josh had ever seen, way, way bigger than his own healthy 9 inches. And he had a leather strap tied around the base of the cock and his big dangling nuts, causing the engorged monster to stand straight up.
Josh watched as the younger man unzipped his tight jeans and wrestled out his dick. This one had a fuckin' ring through the head and was pretty big even when soft. And sure as shootin', he had shaved off his pubes, showing off some kind of tattoo on his pelvis which snaked down onto his dick. Josh winced at the thought of getting a tattoo on his dick but it sure the hell made him even harder to look at the other guy's.
He glanced around the bus to make sure no one else was sharing his fantasy. Most of the disciples were up front , chatting quietly among themselves or reading their Bibles. Caleb and the drivers were still trying to make sense of the map. Josh returned to his breathless voyeurism.
Josh gasped as the biker dude dropped to his knees and began to slowly lick the older guy's dick, up and down, with a long red tongue like a snake. Josh moaned softly as the leather dude impatiently grabbed the back of the younger guy's head and crammed his giant dick down his willing throat. And all around the room, the watchers began to unzip their pants and pull out their dicks. Josh thought he would die, his heart was beating so fast, sweat pouring off his brow.
As Josh pressed his face into the window, the action stopped. The two performers stopped, turned as one and looked out the window, straight into the illuminated interior of the bus and Josh's rapt face. He had been spotted! One of the audience was pointing out the window at the bus!
The biker said something to the leather guy and they both smiled - nasty no-good smiles. The leather guy was handed a small jar by one of the audience and dipped each hand into it. Still smiling, he spoke to the biker who turned his back to the window, showing off broad hairy shoulders sloping down to a muscular waist. The biker pulled down his tight jeans with a jerk, showing Josh a tight hairy ass - no underwear. The biker then bent over to expose his asshole. The leather guy, still staring at Josh, began to strop the incredible length of his cock, twisting his slippery hand round and round.
With his other greased-up hand, he eased his fingers over the biker's lower back and began a frisky feel-up of the hairy rock-hard ass, all the time fixing Josh with this scary half-smile on his face. He then cruelly grabbed one of the biker's cheeks and clawed it aside. He slathered grease into the bikers' hole and with a steady motion, stuck his fingers inside the hot hairy hole.
Josh swallowed, not knowing whether he was going to throw his gorge or pop his nuts. He unzipped his "church going" slacks and eased them off his hips.. He grabbed his iron hard dick, praying and hoping that no one on the bus would spot him and or that they would drive off before he could beat his meat. 'Cuz although he might be witnessing the Prophets of Perversion in action and putting his own eternal soul in perilous jeopardy, he had never ever seen such a hot fuckin' sight in his life nor wanted to beat his meat as bad.
The leather dude roughly pulled out his fingers and wiped them on his victim's hairy cheeks. He barked a silent command at the biker who turned around half way. Josh could now see the bikers' profile and the arching hard on with its glistening ring bright under the light. The leather master beat his buffalo meat until it looked like it would burst and with casual cruelty, grabbed the biker's waist and thrust the huge purple head into the greased asshole. All around the room, the silent watching men began to stroke their hardening dicks.
Josh ripped open his cotton briefs. The smell of sweat and precum hit his nose like a shot of Wild Turkey. He knew that fags fucked each other in the ass but had never allowed himself to think about what that actually meant. All he knew was that, in the past, when he was too fucked up and having a hard time shooting his wad, Tina would occasionally shove her finger into his hole, usually causing him to blast. But to have something that big shoved up there! His own hole twitched in response.
The leather dude slid more and more of the monster up the biker's greedy hole and began furiously slapping the hairy cheeks with the palm of his hands. The biker arched his back and roughly backed himself onto the full length of the sadist's enormous cock. He grabbed his own meat and began to jack off in a furious rhythm which matched the pounding his ass was receiving. The leather dude suddenly stopped beating the biker's ass cheeks and reached around and down and grabbed the biker's dangling balls. Then with a violent jerk which caused Josh to involuntarily whimper, the leather dude yanked down on the swollen sac, causing the biker's mouth to contort in ecstatic pain. His beefy body trembling uncontrollably in agony and lust, the biker dropped his hands away from his engorged dick and shot a blast of cum which arched through the air and hit the wall four feet away. Josh's mouth dropped open involuntarily, the taste of salt once again filling his senses.
The leather dude pushed the biker away from him in a rough thrust, the hasty exit of his fist-sized dick head outta the biker's hairy ass causing a fresh burst of cum to squirt from the biker's meat. Turning to face the window, the sadist stared straight at Josh, the gigantic dick totally upright and stiff. With that same shit-eating grin, he grabbed his own nuts as violently as he had his victim's and blasted his shot onto the window, splattering white gobs of cum in all directions.
Josh couldn't stand it. He grabbed blindly in the seat pocket and reached out a piece of paper. Beating his dick feverishly, he came with a fury which caused spots to appear before his eyes, spilling a torrent of cum onto the paper clutched in his other hand. The leather dude had been joined by the biker as they watched Josh' silent paroxsym of orgasm. The biker then leaned over and began to lick the splattered cum off the window and with a final evil smirk, pressed his sticky lips to the glass surface in an outrageous parody of a kiss to Josh.
With a suddeness that caused the dazed Josh to jump, the bus fired up and pulled abruptly away from the curb, a chorus of alleluias rising from the disciples. Josh turned his head away from the window, unable and unwilling to think about what he had just seen. What he had done, however, was much in evidence. He stared down at the sodden wad of paper, a trail of semen blurring the cheap black ink on the flyer but it was still legible enough to make out one fragment of a line: " ..pour out our spirit and await the Second Coming." Josh smiled in his daze. He was in Sodom for fuckin' sure, and he couldn't wait for the second cumming.
END OF PART I