Page 106 of Guardian
“I walked in on them fucking when I went to ask if we had more ice,” I insist in a harsh whisper.“Nobody wants to see their little brother getting choked by his twenty-year-old boyfriend.”
“Pretty sure PJ’s, like, twenty-three.Twenty-four?”Maybe Troy nudges Maybe Adam.
“Twenty-four, I think,” Maybe Adam agrees.“Or twenty-five?No, I think he’s around a year older than you, so that would be twenty-four.”
Jesus, my head is spinning.“Look, guys.This is pointless.I told you I don’t have a problem with?—”
Until I stumble backward, I hadn’t realized they’d been advancing on me.And I’d been retreating.Like they’re the predators and I’m their prey.Like raptors, I guess sex workers also hunt in pairs.
A bead of sweat trickles down my back.
Somehow I’ve let them back me all the way into the far corner, where there’s a bench seat running between the lockers for people to sit on.That I’ve awkwardly sort of landed sideways on.
“What the fuck are you…?”I don’t finish the sentence because I don’t think I want to.What are they doing?They’re probably about to beat the shit out of me—some sort of fucked-up payment for me being a dick to their friend.
I glance toward the opening to the bank of lockers, but there’s nobody.It’s why I like this spot.The only person I ever see back here is someone from custodial services, and that’s only if it’s late in the evening.
“Look, whatever this is?—”
Maybe Adam’s hand comes down on my shoulder.He’s got an alarmingly strong grip for kind of a lean guy, and his fingers dig solidly into my muscles.
It gets extra confusing when Maybe Troy straddles the bench in front of me, pulling on one of my legs to make me straddle it as well.Then he scoots forward, hooking each of his legs over each of mine, trapping me in place with his crotch practically mashing mine.
I blame the fact that Gina hasn’t wanted to have sex with me in almost a year for the reason I start to get hard.Skin on skin feels good, right?Even if it’s someone you can’t stand.Even if it’s someone who looks as if they want to punch you in the face.
Totally normal.
I cough to cover the groan I almost let out when his fingers press into my leg.
Maybe…maybe this is not entirely normal.
“Adam, keep a lookout.”
The words “Got it” come from behind me, followed by the slurp of a smoothie.Okay, so the one in front of me is Troy.I’m oddly gratified to know for certain, in spite of the complete and totalwhat-the-fuckof this entire situation.
I’m not expecting it when he reaches for my fly.
“What the hell are you?—”
With head-spinning efficiency Troy’s pulled my cock out, and he’s stroking me with his hand.
And I try to tell myself I don’t want him to, until a strained “Oh, God” comes out of my mouth.
Nobody’s touched me in so long.
That little thing doesn’t satisfy me.It never has.
Remembering Gina’s hurtful comments makes me move to cover myself, but Troy only bats my hands away.“Chill, Westy.Lemme make you feel good.”
Do I protest?Do I ask him to stop?
Do I tell him I want more?
“It’s Wes” is all I say.Frankly, it comes out embarrassingly like a moan.
It’s a little painful as hand jobs go.The skin on his hands is a bit rough and he’s not using any lube, but my dick doesn’t seem in the mood to be choosy.
“Got a live one here, Adam.”
