Page 51 - Leather Blues

Leather Blues 39

“Bottom: M, masochist, slave. Gotcha.”
“You learn fast.” The biker pulled on his cigarette. “You
been out here in the middle of the Michigan sticks all your
life?”
Denny smiled. “Just tell me once the big city words for
what I already know.”
“This your first equipment?”
“Beyond my belt and my cock.”
“You got it, man.” He ground out his cigarette. “We
all start somewhere. Guys tell me they’re surprised I’m into
it. Usually a guy comes out into plain sex at seventeen or
eighteen. Then has a second coming out into S and M in his
late twenties or early thirties. Me? I got an early start. Earlier
than you. What are you? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Eighteen,” Den said.
“Christ,” he said. “I’m twenty-five.” They both stood in
silence. “Come on over for a beer?”
“Sure,” Den said.
“I’ll show you some of my toys. S and M made plain old
sex into an equipment sport.” He spit down by their boots.
“I’m Chuck.”
“Denny Sargent.”
Their eyes met hard on.
Their two hard hands met midway. Chuck wrapped his
black-gloved fist around Denny’s thumb. Den closed his
fingers hard around the back of Chuck’s hand. “Brother,”
Chuck said. “The right time. The right space.”
“Yeah,” Den said. He kicked down his bike and straddled
it. Chuck clipped in behind him. The small seat pushed his
basket hard into Den’s firm ass.
“Nice fit,” Chuck said
Den laughed. He half-rode, half-scootered his machine
to the rear of the store. In back, he was surprised to see
Chuck’s hog: modified to be sure, but quiet. “Where you
from?” Den asked.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK