FRICTION FICTION: COMING OUT PARTY by Rick (1986)

[monshanjik]

COMING OUT PARTY

By Rick

(Honcho.May.1986.)

I saw him for the first time when I turned the corner; the company's new
security guard. When I heard that the guy was gonna be hired a few weeks
back, I became hot to see what he was gonna look like.

Our eyes met. We watched each other as I walked closer. He was good
looking from a half a block away. He became gorgeous as I got closer. He
watched every step I took with sharp interest. I reached him: He was
handsome and sensual. The way only short, black haired, dark eyed, guys
with a moustache can be.

I showed him my ID and said, "Hi." My pulse was beating fast. I wanted
to show him my stiff meat and see his.

"Thank you, Paul. Have a nice day."

Any interest in me was gone! He was matter of fact! I couldn't believe
it. We were stripping each other with our eyes, and suddenly he was
Dead-Dick.

"Have a nice day too," I said, hoping he'd pick up the tone of interest
in my voice.

No luck! His thank you was matter of fact. He cut off anything further
by turning his back to me.

Fuck you, I said to myself as I walked to my drill press. I tried to get
him out of my mind all morning, but couldn't.

The lunch whistle blasted and I decided to casually walk out for some
air, stretch my legs, and start a conversation with him. He wasn't there
but Old Tom was, which meant he had an earlier shift. I had to wait
until morning to see him.

I tried to figure what turned him off: He wasn't into 6 feet plus,
muscular guys. He thought I'd always be the top man, fucking the shit
out of him. He was embarrassed because he thought I had a huge cock, and
he was Princess Tiny Meat.

I am 6 feet 2, muscular, with a large, hairy chest. But I'm versatile; I
don't play top man every time. And though I've gotten compliments about
my meat — thick and juicy, beautiful shape, beautiful foreskin, a pile
driver — I'm not horse hung.

I tried to forget him. But fuck it, I couldn't. That night his image
kept bringing my cock up. He was my hot fantasy as I whacked my rock
hard meat. I imagined he was pulling my foreskin over my swollen knob;
again, again, and again. I shot my biggest load ever.

He was there when I turned the corner the next morning. I had decided to
play it as it laid. Our eyes met. We watched each other with sharp
interest as I walked toward him. Even another jerk off the night before
hadn't killed my desire for him.

I saw his name tag. "Morning, Kyle." I showed him my ID.

"Thank you."

He was a Dead Dick again. I decided not to make small talk. He turned
his back toward me.

Fuckin' cock teaser! I said to myself as I walked to my drill press.
Suddenly I wanted to rip off his uniform and fuck his ass till he was
screaming. Ram my rod up his shithole without mercy. Then I realized why
he acted that way. He was still in the damn closet! Wanting it but
scared of getting it. And that meant he was trouble.

I had my excuse to forget him, added to the fact he was about ten years
younger than me. We also had different backgrounds; he was Iranian and I
was born in Israel. It just wouldn't work out.

All that work day I did forget him. But he was back in my hot whack off
fantasy that night . . . and the next, the next, and the next.

The sexual tension between us every morning was building. I hoped he'd
break his matter of fact stance, but it was becoming obvious he'd only
flirt with the idea of sex with me, and then retreat.

I had to get him out of the closet because I wanted to make it with him
so fuckin' bad. Feel his warm body against mine. Rub his chest hair that
teasingly popped out of his open shirt and promised more. And love the
bastard. He'd be a fucked up mess unless someone helped him out. I
couldn't stand that idea. There was too much between us to let it die.

I called and canceled the party I planned on going to that night,
Saturday. Mark was crestfallen. He begged me to reconsider.

"You'll disappoint me and the men I wanted you to meet."

"I have something special to do."

"Well, I hope he's worth it."

"He is. See you next time." I hung up. I then put a message on my
answering machine, saying that I was called out of town unexpectedly.
That killed repeat calls and interruptions, so I could think about
Kyle's coming out party.

I set my plan into action that Sunday night. 1 called my boss at home
and told him I wanted some overtime Monday. We made auto parts and there
was always work.

"I'll put in two shifts straight, Mr. Bernstein."

"Sure, Paul. Anytime."

Then I drove my car to the company parking lot and walked home.

Monday morning I turned the corner. He was there. We went through our
usual routine. Eye contact, watching each other as I walked down the
block, my cock wanting to know his, his matter of fact air as he checked
my ID.

"Morning, Kyle. Have a nice weekend?"

"Fine."

I could see the wanting in his beautiful eyes. And fear. I wanted to
share that pain in him. Take it away. He returned to his guard duty with
his back toward me.

I put my lunch in my locker and began my day at the drill, wondering:
Would Kyle and I be making love in 16 hours, or would he hate me for
dragging him out of the closet by his balls?!

After lunch I went outside for some air. Old Tom was half asleep in the
sun, sitting in his rickety chair.

"Hey, Paul," he suddenly said. "You hear what that half breed Kyle is
saying 'bout you?"

"No."

"Says you're a faggot. Honest to God, that's what he told me. Says
you've been coming on to him every morning. Shit! You're about as queer
as I am. And I had seven kids, three wives, and a few woman on the side.
Fuckin' greaseball!" He spit out his tobacco juice and went back to his
dozing.

The small doubts I had about what I planned quickly vanished. Kyle would
continue to say I was gay and that I was making a play for him.
Coworkers would begin to shun me. Then one day Mr. Bernstein would call
me into his office. Because of personality differences, bad morale on
the job, etc . . . He'd be very apologetic. "Nothing against your kind.
And I don't believe one word of it, Paul, but — " I'd get canned. And
I'd lose the opportunity to see Kyle again. And that probably was his
plan. With me out of the way, I wouldn't be around to rattle his closet
door.

At 6 pm I went to a nearby diner to eat. By seven, I was on my second
shift. By midnight I was ready.

I walked to the entrance. Kyle was there. "Surprised to see me?" I said.
"I worked two shifts just so I could see you alone tonight."

"Oh." His voice was weak.

"What's this shit old Tom tells me? You're telling everyone I'm a fag?"

"I — I — I really didn't — "

I cut him off. "I'm gonna punch the guts out of you." I took a
threatening step closer. He was shit-scared. "Then I'm gonna shove a
metal pipe up your shithole, and your're gonna wish it was my fuckin'
hot dick."

"Don't touch me, you fuckin' bastard," he screamed.

"Who's to stop me? It's just you and me."

"I know there's another worker inside. He'll — "

"Joe? He's deaf. He wasn't too smart when he began working here 30 years
ago, and he hasn't improved with age." I took another threatening step
closer.

"Thinking of running, Kyle?" I sparked the idea in his head. "Go ahead.
We're in an industrial park. Deserted. You may stir up some goofed up
winos. You can run, but I'll find you."

He ran. I heard the parking lot gate slam shut. I knew he'd try to
escape out the entrance at the other end, but it was locked till
morning. It was going as I planned.

I slammed the gate behind me and locked it. "You're trapped, Kyle," I
yelled. "I got the only key to get us out. Don't make me look for you.
I'll really get mad, and the madder I get, the harder I'll beat the shit
out of you."

I walked in and out of the shadows, between the cars. I softened my
attack. "There is an easy way out, Kyle. The key is in my jock. All you
have to do is undo my pants, pull down my jock, and it's yours: the key
and my cock. Admit it, Kyle. Make it easier. You're gay. Just like me.
My dick is warm and waiting for you. Come and feel it, and watch it grow
hard. Let me feel yours grow."

The locked gate rattled. I turned and saw him for a second before he ran
back into the darkness. He was resisting more than I figured.

My attack became hard again. My play was to be hard, then a little soft,
then hard again. Alternating. Hoping he'd realize the soft spots said,
"I don't want to hurt you. I love you, damn it!" I was gonna do it till
one of us cracked.

"I told you it was locked. I'm getting really mad, shithead. You're
calling me a liar now."

"Leave me alone!" he screamed.

He was between the garbage bins. I walked over. "I know you're in there.
Come out or I'm coming in, mad as hell."

"Get away from me, you fuckin' queer bastard!"

I pushed the bins aside. "Don't make me hurt you Kyle. Let all the pain
out now. I'll hold you. For as long as it takes."

"Noooo," he sobbed. "I'm not gay. God, oh God! I don't want to be gay."

"But you are, Kyle. Don't torture yourself. Cry. Cry all the pain out."

I slowly moved toward him. His left hand swung up with a long piece of
glass.

"Go ahead and try it, shithole bastard!"

He did!

My right knee caught him in the gut, brought him up and pinned him
against the wall. My left hand grabbed his left arm and slammed it down
on my pinning leg. He dropped the glass. I spread his arms out and held
him against the wall.

Then I kissed him. A long, hard kiss.

I pulled away. He spat in my face!

I pinned him by his neck and ripped his shirt open. "My, what a
beautiful, hairy chest." I licked his hairy pecs.

I opened his belt and yanked his pants down. "I'm gonna play with your
meat, boy!" I ripped off his shorts.

"Please, Paul!" he screamed. "NO!"

His sobs came in torrents. All resistance left his body. I released him.
He reached out and put his arms around me.

I wrapped my arms around him. "Cry, baby, cry."

He did. Sobs of pain. Sobs of silence that were more painful. Sobs that
shook his body.

After a long time the sobs came less frequently, then stopped. I let him
open my jacket, shirt, and slip his hand in, resting his head against my
bare chest.

"Hummm. You smell beautiful, Paul."

"You feel beautiful, Kyle. A beautiful male." I wanted to hold him
forever.

We stayed that way for a long, long time.

It was turning cool. "Kyle, let's go to my place. Can't stay here all
night."

"Yes." He shivered. He pulled his pants up and notched the belt. I
removed my jacket and put it on him.

"You know why I did all this?"

"Yes."

"You're not really mad at me?"

"No." He smiled. The fear in his eyes was gone. He buried his face in my
pecs, licking one. My cock began to stir. I held him tight against me.

"My car is over there."

"Okay."

Kyle sat beside me. I turned the motor and the heater on, and drove to
the gate and stopped.

"Want me to get the key from your jock?"

"I lied. No key."

"But the gate's locked."

"Yep." I reached under the dash, took out a remote, and pressed the
button. The gate slid open. "I activated it when I was searching for
you."

"You fuckin' prickhead!" he said with a beautiful smile.

I kissed him. My upper lip pressed against his thick black moustache. I
reached down into his open fly and squeezed his meat.

"Shit! You've got a growing dong between your legs. It didn't look like
it."

"Yeah. It surprises ya." He felt my bulge.

My cock began to grow. "Oh, Jesus!" I drove out the gate.

He opened my fly and took it out, holding it until it grew solid. He
pulled the foreskin over the head and back down my curved dickshaft.
Again and again.

He whipped out his throbbing brown cock. It stood out about 9 inches.
Straight. I squeezed it hard. He moaned. I stroked it gently, feeling
the veins. "Ohhhh, Paul."

At a stoplight we kissed again, holding each other's hot rod.

I drove on. The half-mile to my apartment seemed so far away.

-------------------------
Thanks to original poster in Yahoo! gaymagazinefiction group!
Enjoy!

 

[ToniD17]

yes