Simon loved wearing tight jeans. He loved going barefoot. He’d also recently started wearing club wear. He wanted to look like a club kid.
Many people thought he was a bit of a fem, but he felt too insecure to try anything. He was twenty-five now and he’d just moved out of his mom’s place and he was still cherry.
“You like getting fucked by guys?” Karen had asked him.
“No…I haven’t tried it” Simon replied sheepishly.
“You should!” said Karen, lighting yet another cork tipped Marlboro, taking a deep inhale and letting out a powerful stream of smoke.
Like several other eccentric West Hollywood characters, Karen loved to go barefoot too. Usually in barefoot sandals. And she loved to look the slut part. Tight low-rise jeans, bare midriff tank tops, cheap jewelry and loads of makeup. Dripping wet in the excitement.
“I fuck anybody” she loved to say. She chain-smoked Marlboros and her red nailed fingers bore the nic stains.
“You want one?” she’d love to ask. Simon always declined, though secretly wished he could be just like Karen.
It was only in the last few months that Simon had gotten out of the grip of his mother and sister. He’d begun going to raves and dance clubs, listening and dancing to trance and drum and bass techno. ısparta escort He was definitely a late starter.
He’d finally moved out and away from them. He had gotten his own place and he’d just recently developed a taste for wine and liquor. He’d never drunk before, which was really something. Everybody else had always regarded him as completely squeamish. Too squeamish even to go to the dance clubs and dance to the techno music he loved.
“Too bad you won’t get wasted and start doing drugs” said Karen teasingly, tauntingly. Simon had also been approached by other guys countless times for sex. He just couldn’t. And that had become his reputation. Though very effeminate Simon was scared. Scared of trying anything.
“Good to see you’re letting you’re hair down,” said Claude one night at a club. Simon was getting high on tequila.
“Thanks,” said Simon. Claude was you’re consummate forty something queen. As well as looking the part, he sucked on his Benson and Hedges menthols with the same satisfaction he practiced in bed.
“Well, see you babe” he said, as he stroked Simon’s ass and walked away. Simon’s cock got hard as he felt sexually turned on in more ways than one.
“Getting curious?” Karen asked pointedly.
“Er..no…” istanbul escort Simon said, somehow ashamed of himself.
“Shithead!” she said as she went off to smoke a joint, sticking her tongue out at Simon as the techno music pulsated throughout the club.
In the early morning hours, Simon walked home high on tequila. His bare feet were getting blackened from the pavement. It made him feel sexy, very sensual. Karen did too, but she went the other way. Off on her own to seek a bisexual orgy. To get fucked and do drugs. Generally plummeting to the bottom of the sewer of decadence. Swimming in the shit and so glad to be.
Karen liked them her way- ultra slut whores, extreme party animals, ultra fem guys who went both ways, submissive trannies who lived for cock. Fallen good girl next-door types. All guaranteed to make you blush and keep your prick or pussy throbbing with anticipation. Tough Bull Dykes with strap ons who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and so very quick to keep you in line for your own good. Never to be underestimated.
As she sauntered along the boulevard, she was stoned and oblivious to the many night characters she passed and knew by name. Literally walking past sexual partners she knew intimately… and yet ignoring them like izmir escort a high school princess, so very confident in the hallways on the first day back at school. She was lost in her thoughts. Thoughts about last night.
She had been at Kolver’s apartment. Kolver, the drug-dealing holdover from the 1960’s. Scrawny, tall in faded denims, long greasy grey-ish brown hair with a pock marked face… And an ever-ready grin showing rotting teeth reminiscent of rat filled derelict tenant buildings.
She was feeling horny, as always, as she sat on the chair in the paint peeled apartment.
“Come here bitch!” he said in his venomous cackle. Loosening his belt and slowly dropping his jeans to his feet. His cock was hard and jutting out about 45 degrees, his uncut top throbbing.
Karen just grinned and fell to her knees, the now lipstick smeared cock at the back of her mouth, as her tongue did it’s subtle work. Her tongue was riding over and under it’s base and over it’s head, probing around in rhythm, a connoisseur masseuse, gently lapping every which way at the swollen shaft. Kolver grunting in time, Karen squealing in delight, despite her full mouth. The fever accelerating, both of them in sequence and increased tempo. Unbelievably hot and burning.
“Ah fuckin’ bitch!” Kolver uttered as his cum fired into Karen’s tonsils and down her throat. She fell choking on his load, gasping for breath at the end of the hundred yard sprints she’d never run.
“Fuckin’ right!” gasped Kover.
All’s well that ends well.