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Ode to Wesley and Provincetown


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Ode to Wesley and Provincetown

by Larkin

The arguing and fighting seemed to go on and on until he went to his bedroom and slammed the door.  He locked it  and hastily grabbed a few things. Crawling out his window, he headed for the highway.  To be specific, it was the onramp for the Pennsylvania Turnpike.  In an instant, that part of his life was over.   The boy was picked up almost immediately. Feeling emancipated, he looked towards a new world.  At the moment it would be a summer resort on Cape Cod. At the beginning of each season they arrived from here and there.  Boys fleeing home, boys rejected or ejected and for the first time in their lives finding themselves free and out in the world.  Tee-shirts and jeans, long or cut-off and maybe a canvas bag of basic items.  An extra shirt, small amount of money if any, a zipped pouch with drugs of one sort of another and perhaps a pack of cigarettes. Life for some of them was promising to become a superb adventure and their optimism and readiness infected anyone in their company. Wesley was one of these boys. 

Small and slim in stature, his blond, curly hair had not been fussed over.  He let it fall where it may.  Perhaps one reason was that he was blind as a bat without his glasses.  The two prescription lens were set into a pair of frames they were not designed for.  To overcome this problem He applied multiple layers of glue.  Periodically one lens or another would suddenly  pop out and Wesley would blindly re-apply more glue.  It gave him the look of being sort of a patchwork boy.  When he put the glasses aside so that the glue could dry, it was then that you could see an incredibly alluring face promising nothing but mischief, fun and trouble.

He sat on one of the park benches that were not already occupied by others and spread out to enjoy the sun and watch the passer-bys,    He believed in giving the appearance of being completely,... good for nothing.  This had always worked well in drawing to him, others like himself.  

A guy, tanned and more substantial in frame, sat down next to him. They side glanced each other but avoided direct contact.  That went on barely a minute.

It was the Italian who spoke first. "You live here?"

Wesley gave him a quizzical look and then shook his head no.  It was immediately followed with a broad smile and then one of Wesley's silly, stupid laughs.  The Italian, maybe in his late twenties, laughed too.  With nothing to prove, Wesley was entirely friendly and physically familiar.

They had a few more lines of small talk until one said, "You wanna go smoke a joint?"

Do you want to go smoke a joint, was usually code for something much more explicit.  Both boys rose up and crossing the street, slipped between two buildings.  They climbed a narrow stairway into a fire exit alcove. 

The Italian was proud.  He arched his back and opened his pants.  Wesley repressed what sounded like a giggle, looked up and smiled.   When the Italian pulled out a large uncircumcised cock.  Wesley slid down the foreskin to give it a quick look and then took it into his mouth. 

Looking down at the patchwork boy, the Italian said, "Don't worry, no one ever comes up here."

This was not entirely true, but short of a fire, the worst that could happen is that you might run into someone else wanting to do the same thing.  Wesley held on to keep his balance and the Italian roughly carried out the motions of intercourse into the boy's mouth.  He pushed harder trapping Wesley awkwardly into the corner.  It was exactly the way he liked it. He liked being taken over, used for someone else's selfish pleasure.  It was good enough that Wesley was sure that he would swoon over it later. 

To say it lasted more than 10 minutes would be pushing it.  When they came out of the alley, they both went separate ways behaving as if nothing had happened.  Walking along and appearing to be lost in his thoughts, he swallowed the last of the Italian's cum.  They never did smoke a joint.  

Other than his basic needs, money didn't mean much to Wesley.  He didn't require money to have sex with someone but if afterwards, they offered it out of gratitude or perceived obligation, that was just fine with him.   The encounter with the Italian was so perfect that neither one gave the idea of money a thought.  Wesley's life was governed by events like this and he was already preparing for the next.  This is, after all, why he left home.

There was a slightly feminine guy that had been watching Wesley from across the street. The tall boy had been doing it for sometime before Wesley noticed.  It was someone who looked much like himself only taller.  He was wearing a summery but trendy outfit and dark sunglasses.  The boy in his early twenties was slender like a beanpole and had a slightly swishy gate. 

Looking intently at Wesley he said, "Where'd you get those glasses?"

Wesley shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"You really should consider contacts."

Wesley gave a slight embarrassed laugh.

"Ahm Simon, what's your name?" 

He kept looking one way and then the other.

"Oh come on, let's go, too many people I know around here and I have to do some things."

They walked along, casually but conspicuously together.  It was mostly Simon's doing. 

"I wanted to get away from the park.  I didn't want anyone to think I was pickin you up or anything."

He pulled down his glasses so Wesley could see his eyes and smiled.

Wesley said, "Were you pickin me up?"

Simon kept right on walking and looking forward as if he didn't care one way or another. "Of course I was but if you're not interested, you can go back and sit on the benches until some old faggot troll comes along."

They both laughed.  

Because he was in jeans and a tee-shirt and young, Wesley wasn't apparently homosexual but Simon certainly was and Simon did care who knew it.

Simon would say, "The best way to get dick is to make it obvious to all that you are perfectly willing to suck it.  It works for me.."

In saying this he left Wesley with no doubt but then, he didn't know that Wesley had just emerged from an alley with someone he didn't even know.

Simon's cottage consisted one small room kept tidy and spare. There was a sink and a small counter that served as a minimal kitchen and a bed covered with throw pillows to serve as a casual couch. 

Without hesitation the two began to make-out.  Wesley felt his cock being tugged at through his pants. It erected without resistance and Simon opened them exposing Wesley's cock and balls.

"God damn I guessed wrong, I thought you'd have a small skinny dick cause of your age and all, it's almost as big as mine."

With that he put Wesley's dick back in his mouth.  It was reciprocated by naturally falling into an attitude of 69.  It was a personal and intimate investigation of each other's privates.

Simon Changed his position. "You wouldn't want to fuck me would you?  I hate to think of all that work.

if you do it right, I can cum spontaneously!" 

Being without any reservations and using only spit, Wesley pushed and penetrated the tall girlish blond boy.  Their congress was trouble free and pleasurable.   

Wesley's basic personality was characterized by a cheerful and silly cadence.  He liked to give the impression that he hadn't a serious bone in his body and was sort of a pliable feather brain.   What it concealed was a clever, crafty and intelligent boy when it came to understanding those around him and when it came to sex, he knew how to make it work. 

During the day, marijuana was the perfect modifier but at night, it was a combination of pizza and alcohol and perhaps pills if they were around.  Alcohol made him languid, seductive and receptive to even the dregs.  As it got later and the bars and clubs closed, dark men wandered the streets looking for "it". 

Wesley was standing under a street light when a portly man stopped to ask directions. It was a ruse just to engage him.  Wesley was still up for most anything but he was starting to be concerned about finding a place to stay for the rest of the night.  He listened to the man's mediocre chatter and soon doubted its potential. 

The man said, "No, I can't, I'm staying at the Harbor Light and I am not allowed guests..but we could....."

Wesley had a good idea of what the man was like.  He guessed that he was apologetic, conventional and only interested in sucking cock.  Probably a nice man, but a one way street that really would require remuneration.  Right or wrong, that was his impression.

Getting his own cock sucked wasn't out of the question but ideally it would have to be from a kid who was more like himself.  Something that would play itself out as an erotic tug of war with mutual objectives and fearless perversity.  He really liked doing that,  but not with a portly man from the Connecticut suburbs wearing white loafers. 

The man suggested a trip into the shadows or down on the beach.  Wesley gave no lead because he had lost interest.  The man moved on.

His indecision was rewarded because a few minutes later he was passed by a man trudging home from the bar.  He was drunk and appeared to be pissed off.  They had exchanged quick glances and Wesley immediately knew he was on.  He was so confident that he took a chance and ran to accompany the weaving man home. 

He  especially liked men.  He would look up at them and charm them as a son would to an adored  father.  Wesley had the gift for taming straight guys and some even found him irresistible.  There was always danger in sexually approaching a straight man but Wesley's instincts were good and his feminine side made him very desirable to man who had plenty to drink.

Not a single word had been shared between them and together the two settled on a bed in a dark and unfamiliar room,   The man stripped revealing animal nakedness.  His erection sprung up hard and stiff.  

Wesley was trying to undress but he couldn't take his eyes off of the man's cock.  He reached out to tug at it.  Still half in and half out of his clothes, the dark man moved forward, physically taking Wesley over and pulling his remaining clothes out of the way.  He parted Wesley's exposed butt with both hands and then probed his asshole with his fingers.  Wesley's pose was inclined in a way that told the man that he had been fucked before.  It really didn't matter because the man was going to do it anyway.  It was rough and hard and it left Wesley in a state of near delirium.  After the man cleaned up the overflow, he threw Wesley out.   He didn't mind, the experience left him vibrating from the inside. He considered the experience well worth it.

It was after 3 am and Simon's little house was dark.  Wesley approached it and carefully opened the door trying not to make a sound. Still unfamiliar with the surroundings he stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. He had only met Simon just that afternoon.  There was a rustling in Simon's bed and the room was suddenly lit up with a string of Christmas lights. Simon was not alone.  There was a mass of black curly hair on the inside of the bed, dead asleep.  Simon, raised the blanket inviting him into bed with them.  Wesley stripped off his clothes and climbed in bed and went to sleep.  Simon cuddled up next to him, took a hold of Wesley's cock and said softly, "I'm glad you came back."


In the morning, In a room filled with marijuana smoke, Three piss-hard, post adolescents formed a lusty knot that went on until almost noon.  The third member was Mario.  Dark Latin who lived in New York's East Village.

Simon loaned Wesley  money for a pack of cigarettes.

"You should go to the nude beach today. It's a great way to spend the day and if you don't bring you glasses you can't tell if they're ugly or not but if you're suckin dick, who cares!"

They both laughed. "I'd go with you but Mario goes back tomorrow and I want to spend some time with him."


Wesley had found home with Simon in the rented cottage.  He would remember that summer for the rest of his short life.  When the winds got cold and the rains came, The boy was out on the highway heading to New York City..     






Edited by larkin
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