By a miracle, I had fallen asleep. I have had such bad insomnia this past week. I awoke with a start to urinate and was startled that the digital clock on the shelf read 4:43am. Scrambling, I soon found myself out and on a city bus slowly chugging through downtown El Paso. The sun hadn’t even rose and long shadows stretched between sleeping buildings and houses as I passed southward through the city.
The bus was empty, save for myself, an elderly man who sat up front casually talking with the obese driver, and a young, black guy who sat adjacent to me in the middle of the bus.
I pensively sat and stared out the dark, grime streaked window. The silent neighborhoods whizzed by, foreboding and uninviting. Not a single scrap of warmth or personality. The American Dream. Everything was a copy of a copy of a copy. The blandness brought me down even more. I had an early morning appointment with a housing agency to be awarded a house through Section 8. I was quite optimistic. My first house. I have come to the unnerving reality that I was going to grow old and die in El Paso. Though my wondering eye always looked off onto new adventure and locals, fate will always be my cockblocker. Yet, it’s a house. And, if I qualify, I will settle and become stable. Why not? Wouldn’t you?
My thoughts were shattered when I noticed the reflection in the window of the black guy sitting across from me. He was young, in his early twenties. Tall and thin. Attractive features. He wore a black leather biker jacket over a white tank top. His charcoal colored jeans ended in black boots. In the reflection, the guy held an intense gaze on me. His hands were down at his crotch slowly stroking a long erection whish was poking straight up and out from his unzipped jeans.
My first reaction was shock from the brazen act itself. What kind of desperate motherfucker would whip his joint out on a bus and wave it at a complete stranger? I would had expected the stereotypical, paunchy pervert, but a young kid?
In the reflection, the young man held an intense gaze in my direction. From my window’s reflection, I continued to watch, at first with disgust, then with curious infatuation as the guy slowly stroked his slender, brown hand up and down the long shaft. With nimble fingers, he would pull the foreskin up and over the glistening head and then back down in rhythmic movements.
I continued to watch and the young man must have caught on that he was being scrutinized and held my full attention. This caused the young exhibitionist to pump faster. My stomach began to get knots. I was slightly aroused and that confused and angered me. I glanced to the front of the bus. The driver and the elderly man continued to converse oblivious to the show occurring behind them.
I nonchalantly glanced over to the young man. The moment our eyes actually met, that look of frustrating release washed over the kid’s intense face as white semen flowed out the tip of his engorged penis and cascaded down the long shaft covering his clenching hand. Mixed in with the chugging of the bus’ engine, I heard the heavy breathing escaping through the nostrils of the passenger. The exhibitionist looked at me and smiled a great row of white teeth. I returned the stare with a face as blank as a poker dealer. A sly grin crept across my face as he finished with scooping the remaining semen with his hand and flinging it onto the back of the adjoin bus seat.
With an uncomfortable glance, I noticed that the bus had fortunately reached my destination and I quickly debarked. I stepped out into the chilled, gray dawn of the city. It was eerily quiet save for the ambient sounds of distant, unseen vehicles and the occasion hacking cough of a solitary hobo shuffling down the black, spotted concrete.
I needed coffee. I stopped at a convenience store and bought a cup before heading over to wait in the long line at Housing…
Oh, and the date with Johnny? Well, I can state as an article of fact that it went nothing like this:
That's my story and I'm sticking with it.