How To Rape A Straight Guy by Kyle Michel Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

control, here.”
    When I was done, I felt -- I dunno, I can’t really describe it.  I felt...easy.  Full.  Relaxed.  Wanted.  All of it.  An’ I noticed Lenny an’ Wayne’d taken care of themselves at the same time -- one hand for each other, one for me.  Wayne was still jugglin’ my balls an’ strokin’ my dick an’ I didn’t want him to stop.  Even when he ran his hands up the insides of my legs an’ around an’ up over my butt.  I liked the feelin’s it brought, weird ones that were comfortable.  Casual.  Calm.  But I couldn’t let him think that that’s what I liked, so that’s when I took the money off the table an’ shoved it in my pocket. Then I tucked my dick away.
    Lenny lay back against the couch, smilin’ like a cat that just ate some dumb bird.  Wayne was still runnin’ his hands over me.  Now he was behind me, runnin’ his hands under my arms an’ over my pecs like he was worshipin’ me, or somethin’.  Then he started gettin’ lower, goin’ back down around my butt, again, so I stepped away from him an’ drank down the last of my beer.
    “I better split,” I said.
    “You don’t have to,” said Wayne.
    I shrugged an’ set the bottle on the table.  “Naw, I got a ways to go to get home.”
    “Long drive?” asked Lenny.
    “Walk,” I said.  “I got no car.”
    “We could drive you,” said Wayne.
    “Don’t want you to.”
    I headed for the door.
    “You want a car?” asked Lenny.
    I stopped an’ looked at him, thinkin’ I knew what he meant.  A little more serious “fun time” an’ I’d get a set of wheels.  An’ to be honest, I was up for it -- dependin’ on what he was wantin’ in the way of “fun time.”  “Why, you got one you don’t need?”
    Lenny didn’t move, just let his eyes drift in my direction as he said, “Yes.  A Chevy.  Not a new one, but it runs good.”
    “What’s it gonna cost?”
    “You show me how you did it.”
    I didn’t get it.  Neither did Wayne -- or I don’t think he did.  I was pretty much ready to think I didn’t know anything about how Wayne thought.  He looked at Lenny like he was talkin’ some weird language an’ said, “You want him to come back?”
    “Yes,” said Lenny.  “Then I want him to show me how he did it.  Prove he did it.”
    “Did what?” I asked.
    “Made ‘em cum.”
    Now I’m not gonna tell ya I really thought about what Lenny was sayin’.  I didn’t.  Didn’t even really think about what it meant.  Didn’t wonder why he wanted to know.  Didn’t consider it’d be messin’ with a guy in the community who’d never done a thing to me instead of with a con who was kicked into my path by those self-righteous assholes that run the country.  I didn’t tell myself I wasn’t queer or that I oughta be doin’ a girl instead of a guy, even tho’ I’d never even thought about doin’ anything like that to any chick since I had Connie to fuck with.  Or that what Lenny was askin’ me to do was worth prison, an’ that if I was caught it’d be my second strike.  I didn’t even get pissed at his real meanin’ -- that he thought I was full of shit an’ couldn’t back up what I’d said.  All I thought was, “You’ll give me a car?”
    “An eighty-seven Malibu,” said Lenny.  “My father’s car.  Low mileage.  Runs good.  He died a year ago an’ I just haven’t gotten around to selling it.  I’ll sign it over to you if you’ll show me how you did it.  And let me videotape it all.”
    Tape me?!  Now that made me stop an’ think.  It got Wayne goin’, too.
    “Lenny, are you out of your fucking mind?” he sniped.  “Do you have any idea how fucking illegal that is?”
    “Only if you get caught,” Lenny said, right back him.  “But if we play our cards right, we won’t.”
    That brought a big “huh?” from me.  “What d’ya mean?  It’s one thing to do a guy in prison; the uniforms don’t give a fuck what happens to any of us.  Or