I made sure to cover it in lube, then lay on my back with my legs in the air and my ass facing the camera. This was what they were paying me to see. I rubbed the bright-purple dildo against my crack, then pushed hard to get the head past the tight ring of muscle.
“Uhh,” I groaned at the invasion of the smooth, hard dildo inside my ass, and while it felt good sliding up and into me, it wasn’t the same as a dick. Nothing compared to hot flesh against you, creating that beautiful friction of skin against skin, feeling yourself come alive. But I soon forgot about that as my body decided it would make good use of the dildo, and slowly at first, I began to fuck myself on it until I couldn’t think straight. My hips began to jerk wildly against it.
“Yeah, this is for you, baby. You like it?” I rammed it in deep and turned on the vibrator. It was as if I’d inserted an electric wire inside me. My ass clenched tight, and I saw stars.
“Oh, fuck.” I grabbed my cock and began to jerk myself off. Strangely enough, when I closed my eyes, I imagined Harlan watching me with his bright blue eyes. I’d noticed his full, pale-pink lips, and I wondered how soft they’d feel wrapped around my dick, his tongue snaking around my crown to dip into the slit. God, how horny was I that I wanted to have sex with a homeless guy I barely knew? And yet I sensed something different about Harlan. Something powerful and hidden that made me want to peel off his snide, sarcastic outside to see what lay beneath.
A roaring sounded in my ears, and familiar, aching tingles began to roll through me. My dick pulsed so hard it hurt, and I shoved the dildo up high inside me.
“Oh, my God.” I screamed out my orgasm and came, making sure the camera got that money shot of my come spraying across my stomach and chest. Drained and still a bit woozy from the high, I shut off the vibrator and slid it out of me with great care, my hole throbbing around the hard plastic as if determined not to give up something that brought me such pleasure. When it was finally out and I’d caught my breath, I swiped some of my sticky come and brought it to my lips.
“Y’all made me so fucking crazy tonight. I never came so hard in my life.” I licked my finger clean. “Mmm. I’d love to taste you. Did I make you feel good? I hope so.” I rubbed my dick and got off the bed. “I’m going to take a shower now, then work out.” I ran my hands over my stomach and flexed my arms. “If you liked my show, I hope you’ll consider tipping me. Maybe next time we can take a shower together. G’night, and I’ll see you soon.”
After blowing them a kiss, I shut off the camera feed and heaved a sigh. These sessions always left me empty and wanting more. More of a real-life connection. Between this and the dancing, I didn’t get a chance to talk with anyone about anything important. Real. Everything in my life was a fantasy, every person merely there to pay me. If it weren’t for Austin and Frankie, I’d have no people to talk to. No one who knew me for anything other than who I wanted them to see.
The sticky come had dried and it itched. I needed a shower, and then maybe I’d take a trip to the bookstore. Race had told me that with the warmer weather he planned on more evening events, so he’d be staying open later.
And who was I kidding? I hoped Harlan would be there. I hadn’t seen him in a while and worried about where he’d been spending his time.
Forty-five minutes later, I pushed open the door to Dewey’s. I’d stumbled upon this place right after I’d moved here, after I’d settled into my apartment and got real sick, real fast of the four walls staring back at me. Coming from the wide-open skies of Texas, New York City, despite all the people, felt mighty small and claustrophobic. I’d spent my first two weeks walking through all the parks to breathe fresh air and see the sky through the trees.
Dewey’s wasn’t like the big-box bookstores. The front of the store was taken up with comfy chairs to sit a while and read or maybe chat with people. The books were all in the back half of the store. The lighting was mellow, the coffee strong, and the music Race piped in featured songs from the sixties and seventies.
“A throwback to my hippie culture.”He’d laugh, his hazel eyes twinkling from behind the frizz of gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
“Cort, come here.” Race waved me over from behind the counter. “I gotta ask you a question.”
Waving hi to some of the regulars I’d gotten to know over the months I’d been coming here, I joined Race and accepted the cup of coffee he slid across the worn wooden counter.
“What’s up?” I took a sip and almost moaned at how good the coffee tasted.
“That guy, the one who sits here all night without ever buying anything? The one you sneak the cheese to?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Race shook his head and raised a hand. “Don’t bother denying it. I’m not angry, ’cause if you didn’t, I probably would.” His smile faded. “What’s up with you and him?”
“Nothin’.” Feeling protective of Harlan, I didn’t want to reveal I’d been slipping him more than cheese. Every week for the past few months, I’d been giving him cash. The tips had been great lately at Man Up, and between that and my webcam money, while I wasn’t flush with cash, I wasn’t hurting either. No way could I have seen him go through the winter all cold and hungry. I didn’t grow up like that. I hadn’t gotten to the point yet where I could ignore the people around me. Corny as it may seem, I was raised to do right by my fellow man. It was why I couldn’t stop helping Harlan. The guys didn’t have to know I’d given him money to buy warm clothes. I believed him when he said he’d fallen on hard times and used to have money. Maybe I wasthatsucker, but something told me there was more to Harlan than a man down on his luck.
“I know you’ve been giving him money.” Race was no fool. “You need to understand he’s drinking or snorting whatever you give him.”
“Don’t know what you mean.” My mama always told me I couldn’t lie for love or money. Living in New York hadn’t changed me that much.
“Cort. Let me give you some fatherly advice? If you don’t mind.”
“Be my guest.” Like I had a choice. But Race was the closest thing I had to a father. Out of sight meant out of mind for my daddy. And my daddy couldn’t wait to get me out of his sight.
“You’re a nice guy, you know? The type who sees good in everyone. But some people don’t deserve it. I’ve seen his type before—playing the victim to an easy mark. Better make sure you don’t get taken.”
That made me bristle and want to help Harlan even more. “You think ’cause I’m not from around here that I’m stupid or somethin’? I ain’t an idiot just ’cause I don’t got a fancy degree from some college.”
“Calm down. No one said you were an idiot. I said you’re too nice.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m telling you to be careful. There’s something about him I don’t trust.”
Race was the second person telling me to leave Harlan alone and let him be. My irritation rose along with my determination.
“You know, in my line of work, I’ve met more men than you can imagine. It’s taught me how to be a good judge of character, so I think I’ll be okay.” I’d told Race what I did for a living when I first started hanging out at the bookstore. Not the webcam stuff, just the dancing, and he was cool about it.
A customer approached, and Race took her books but continued lecturing me. “People can think they know what to expect from others, but they don’t. They can’t. Everyone has different reasons for what they do and why, and people like him”—he smiled and handed the lady her change—“they’re going to make sure to tell you what you need to hear. It’s how they operate. They do what they need to survive.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
