Page 102 - Leather Blues

90 Jack Fritscher

I mean, I know that for me. And we seem to be, well, a lot
alike.” He laid his curly head down on the fresh piss-wet
muscular crook of Denny’s arm. He put his hand down on
the fresh piss-wet of Denny’s denim basket. “I don’t want
no lover either.” They lay together, relaxing, half-dreaming,
each wandering in his own thoughts and plans.
Denny turned on his side and faced Chuck. “What we
need, buddy, is some serious shut-eye.”
“You want to cum?” Chuck asked.
“My head’s been cuming all fuckin’ night, man. I can
sleep. How about you?”
“I can wait till morning,” Chuck said. He nosed in
through Denny’s sweaty armpit and tongued down on his
right pec and nipple. “I’d like to wake up with a raging piss
hardon, and fuck it slow up your nice tight ass, and then piss
deep inside your guts.”
“So,” Denny said, “maybe I want to wake up with a rag-
ing piss hardon, and fuck it slow down your nice tight throat,
and then piss deep inside your guts.”
“You might say,” Chuck said, “that some of what we’re
looking for has just found us.”
Denny wondered. He had played turn-on and turn-
down at Mr. Martin’s station so long that his mouth could
hardly say what his whole muscular body honestly wanted.
“What say,” Denny said, “we just sleep here tonight, holding
on to each other, and maybe wake up in the morning the
best pair of fuck-buddies the world has ever seen?”
“Sounds good to me,” Chuck said. “You’re the best man
I ever did see.”
“And I like you. I like the way we treat each other. But
maybe I like you, man, because I know you know how to
get me out of Michigan. If you don’t mind that angle, shoot,
partnered up, who knows what hell we might raise. Look,
I got my bike. You got your van and your bike. You got
Chicago connections coming out of the ass.” Denny touched

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