The Perils of Praline (17 page)

After a while, a sweaty Praline put his personal problems aside and began to feel one with the community of dancers around him—which may have actually included more gay men th
a
n he’d laid eyes on in the entire first twenty years of his life. Smiling at the other dancers, he felt like he was making friends without having to actually speak, since he couldn’t anyway. It was a wonderful feeling of acceptance.

Suddenly, the short little gym-bunny who was dancing next to him reached over and ripped off Praline’s Eat-A-Peach T-shirt. Even though it was one of the few pieces of clothing that wasn’t borrowed from Jason’s closet, he didn’t feel sorry to see it go. Jason laughed when he saw what happened and in a move of solidarity took his own shirt off and tucked it partly into his back pocket.

After an hour of dancing, Jason decided they’d better leave. “We’ll go out the back,” he told Praline, “so we don’t run into Harris Pilton.”

Jason pulled Praline through the bar, pas
t
the bathrooms and the office, and out the exit door in the rear. In the alley, there was a large dumpster full of empty beer bottles, crumpled cocktail napkins, and overripe fruit. The night air felt cool on Praline’s chest, making him feel sexy, despite the alley smelling like half a dozen drunks had recently barfed.

“That was so much fun,” Praline told Jason as he noticed a man leaning up against the building’s brick wall next to the dumpster. Praline gasped. It was Harris Pilton. He pulled out his phone and put it in camera mode. As he snapped photos, he noticed a head bobbing up and down at the bottom of the frame around Harris’ crotch. Harris Pilton was getting a blowjob. In an alley. From—and here he lowered the camera to get a really good look—a woman.

“Harris Pilton! What are you doing?” Praline shouted. An idol had fallen.

“Oh shit,” Harris said. “Oh shit! It’s not what it looks like.” He struggled for an explanation. “She’s a trannie!”

The woman stopped sucking Harris’s dick. “I’m not a trannie!”

“Shut up!” Harris shoved the young woman back onto his dick. He looked at Praline and shrugged. “All right. You caught me. I’m getting a BJ from a chick. O-M-G! Now beat it, okay?” With that he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Under his breath he said, “Suck it, bitch.”

Jason tried to pull Praline away, but our disillusioned hero wouldn’t budge. “How could you? You’re gay! Harris Pilton is gay!”

Harris shrugged. “Well, technically no. Seriously, dude, who wants to read gossip from a straight guy?” Then Harris’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, wait a minute. I know you. You’re the hustler who boned Malcolm Wright.”

“Actually, we didn’t get that far,” explained Praline. “We were warming up to—”

“Hold on,” Harris told him. Then he squeezed his eyes tight, grabbed the girl by the back of the head and came in her mouth. After a few spasms he was finished and let the girl go.

She sat back and wiped her mouth with a disgusted look. “I told you I don’t swallow.”

“You do now, honey.” Harris told her, then looked over at Jason and Praline. “Where were we? Oh yeah…”

And with that he pulled a tiny video camera out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at himself. “Hey bitches! Harris Pilton here out on the town in fagulous Weho! I happened to be in the alley doing, well, what boys do, when who should I spy but Malcolm Wright’s twinkilicious hustler!”

He turned the camera on Praline and Jason and asked, “So tell us sweetie, how was the Jesus Warrior in the sack?”

“Run!” screamed Jason as he grabbed Praline. They ran down the alley with Harris chasing after them, screaming more questions, pants around his ankles, trying to aim his camera. Given these impediments, Harris was easy to outrun, and several blocks later Jason figured they’d lost him and they stopped running.

Unfortunately, they’d run away from Jason’s car, so they had to backtrack without using any of the main streets where they might encounter Harris. Along the way, they turned into a dark alley, a very dark alley.

Praline’s mind was racing. One of his all-time heroes was a closet-heterosexual, and if that wasn’t bad enough he still had to tell Jason that he’d stolen his job. There wasn’t anything he could do about the disappointment that was Harris Pilton, but he’d waited long enough to deal with Jason, he had to say something, “Listen, I have to tell you—”

Jason stopped abruptly. Praline followed his stare to four thuggish looking young men entering the alley from the far end. His heart picked up its pace and he had a sudden craving for lemon meringue pie or maybe a Creamsicle. The thugs seemed to be worked up, arguing, gesturing and speaking forcefully. Praline glanced at Jason and saw concern on his face. The closer they got, the more Praline wanted a chocolate bar, a Little Debbie, a Ring Ding.

One of the guys was tall and very black. Another was Hispanic and built like a fireplug. The other two seemed to be some mixture of black and Latino and were equally menacing. They wore baggie jeans that hung remarkably low, exposing their boxers, flannel shirts over T-shirts, and each had a kerchief on his head. Praline wondered if these were gang colors. Even at a distance, he could see that they all had tattoos on their arms, their hands, their necks.

Heart pounding in his chest, Praline was about to grab Jason by the arm and run back to Santa Monica Boulevard, when—

Praline and Jason receive an extended lesson in group-sex.

—the four young men got close enough for Praline to catch the strains of their argument. The fireplug was saying, “There’s no way you’re Kelly. I’m Kelly!”

“Bitch, you ain’t no Kelly,” the black one said. “You a Sharise!”

The fireplug gasped
.
“Take it back! Take it back now!”

“Cool it off,” said one of the others. “You’re Sharise and you damn well know it. Miss Prim and Proper, that’s you, dawg. Now, this one,” and he pointed to the most dangerous looking of the quartet. “This one is Delilah to the bone.”

Praline recognized the names immediately. One of his all-time favorite shows was the Pay TV offering
Dirty Talk
that followed the lives of four single women living in Beverly Hills. Each week, Kelly, Sharise, Delilah and Cindy-Lou made clever conversation about the indiscriminant sex they had with a long line of sexy hunks. By the end of each episode, they’d managed to convince themselves, and the viewers, that it was they, and not the men they slept with and tossed aside, who were victims. It was a huge hit.

Praline smiled and said, “Hey y’all. How’s it going?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” said the scary looking guy they called Delilah. Sexual tension filled the air as the
Dirty Talk
girls glanced back and forth at each other.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Cindy-Lou asked.

“Season three, episode six,” said Delilah. “The girls go on a ski vacation only to find they have to share the one remaining room at the lodge…and the two hunky ski instructors.”

“Exactly,” replied Cindy-Lou.

Praline knew exactly the episode they were referencing. And while the encounter did lead to some uncomfortable silences for the girls over breakfast the next morning, the hunky ski instructors seemed to live happily ever after. Since in this scenario he and Jason would be standing in for the ski instructors, Praline looked forward to what seemed about to happen right there in a West Hollywood alley.

He glanced around, committing to memory the spot where he’d have his first orgy. As alleys went, it was pretty average. On each side sat a low-slung, single story brick storefront: a balloon store on the right and a trendy men’s store on the left. Riddled with potholes, the narrow alley contained a metal garbage bin and a couple of illegally parked compact cars. It really was the perfect place for re-enacting scenes from
Dirty Talk
.

It was also the perfect place to put an end to Jason’s celibacy. But would he go for it? Praline wondered
.
He looked at Jason who, though a little drunk and certainly more relaxed than Praline had ever seen him, seemed uncertain. As the
Dirty Talk
girls moved closer, Praline had to do something so he pushed Jason toward Sharise while he stepped into Cindy-Lou’s embrace. He hoped that Jason got the hint.

Cindy-Lou was Hispanic and in his late twenties. Short, muscular and liberally tattooed, his eyes were dark and moist. Kelly was tall with skin that reminded Praline of a delicious Double Fudge Brownie. Also in his later twenties, his body was naturally thin and he held himself in a rigid, almost regal manner. If the one who corresponded to Sharise placed an ad on theeverythinglist.com, he’d refer to himself as a hot Blatino eager and ready for love. Younger than the others, he had a healthy layer of baby fat rounding off his edges. Delilah, the dangerous and scary one, had caramel-colored skin, black searing eyes, and a thick ropy neck.

While Praline was kissing Cindy-Lou and Delilah, he stole a glance at the others and was relieved to see that Kelly and Sharise were making out with Jason. Instantly, he noticed another feeling, one he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was unhappy about something. Which was totally weird because this was going exactly as planned.

Did he not like group sex? He’d barely given it a chance. Was he not attracted to the
Dirty Talk
girls? No, just kissing Cindy-Lou and Delilah was giving him a hard-on. So what was it? He tried to concentrate on the feeling but between the two sets of hands running up and down his body and the delicious case of whisker burn he was getting on his cheeks he could barely remember his own name.

And then he had a surprising thought. Faced with the possibility of any sexual act he could imagine with any of these guys and believing that one ought to have goals, Praline realized that what he really wanted was…Jason. It was a curious thought, one which
he
took a moment to understand. The reason he wanted to have sex with Jason was actually very practical. Once he’d done it, he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. He did have to admit to himself that he’d been thinking
about
sex with Jason more than a boy seeking his one true love really ought to.

So, somehow during this orgy he had to have sex with Jason so he could forget about having sex with Jason. Unfortunately, at that moment he was busy kissing two men. Neither of whom was Jason. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t interesting and exciting and sexy and extremely distracting.

Sometimes Cindy-Lou and Delilah took turns kissing him, one then the other. Other times, the three of them would kiss in a perfect triangle. When both men tried to put their tongues in Praline’s mouth, he couldn’t help but moan with delight. Still, he pulled away
;
he had to make his way over to Jason. Yes, this was a great idea. Jason couldn’t possible refuse to have sex with him in the middle of an orgy. It would be too rude, even for him. All Praline had to do was get there.

He made a move to cross the alley, but Cindy Lou pushed him to his knees and, before our over-stimulated hero was able to give it much thought, he was unbuckling Cindy-Lou’s belt. As soon as it was undone, Cindy-Lou’s pants fell to his ankles. Quickly, Praline did the same with Delilah’s pants just to be sociable. Both boys were wearing trendy fashion-forward boxers, which they quickly pulled down so Praline could get at their cocks.

Just as he was about to take Cindy-Lou’s thick, curved cock in his mouth, Praline looked over to see what Jason was doing. Kelly and Sharise had pushed Jason up against an illegally parked Smart Car and were in the process of pulling off his pants. Jason’s round little ass was a brighter white than the rest of him and seemed to glow in the dark alley. A dark tuft of hair sprouted just above his ass cheeks, in between the two dimples in his lower back. Praline tried to get a glimpse of his cock but instead found himself licking Delilah’s foreskin until the man whimpered and moaned.

Praline tried to take both Cindy-Lou and Delilah’s cocks into his mouth
,
but they stretched his lips to an uncomfortable point and he immediately went back to sucking one, while jerking the other. Then reversed the process. To shake things up, and because his mouth was getting tired, he licked on Cindy-Lou’s balls, and then hurried over to do the same to Delilah.

A few minutes later, it was Praline’s turn. Delilah grabbed him under the arms and lifted him up, and he and Cindy-Lou got on their knees, quickly pulling Praline’s jeans down around his ankles. When they got his underwear down, the two young men rubbed their mouths up and down the length of his penis. It was an incredible feeling, though it did remind Praline of the carwash in his hometown, which made him think of a gigantic SUV-size penis rolling through the carwash being rubbed by soft, wet rollers.

Shaking off the thought, he peaked over at the other trio. He couldn’t see much more than Jason’s legs sticking up in the air. He was lying on the tiny hood of the Smart Car while Kelly buried his head in Jason’s lap and Sharise made out with him.

Praline remembered that he wanted to get to Jason. It was time to make his move. Even though Cindy-Lou and Delilah were taking turns deep-throating him, he attempted to push them away so he could make his way across the alley. Unfortunately, Cindy-Lou had Praline’s dick lodged in his throat and wasn’t about to budge.

Out of the blue, his phone rang, throwing Praline into a social quandary. He thought it terribly impolite not to answer one’s phone when it rang, and he just hated when people screened calls. On the other hand, he was sure Miss Etiquette had never covered this situation in her blog, and it was probably just as rude to take calls while two men were in the midst of sucking you off. In the end, curiosity got the better of him and he slid down the wall, while Cindy-Lou continued to fellate him, and slipped the phone out of his jeans.

The screen showed the call was coming from his mother. That clinched it. It was very late in Georgia and it might be an emergency.

“Excuse me,” he said to Cindy-Lou and Delilah. “I have to take this call.”

He hit the answer button. “Mama? Is everything all right?”