In The Mind of a Writer: My Characters are Real

I showed you how I used Danny, my wheel-chair lover, as the basis for the character Hylan in my novella, “Not in It For the Love.” Well, I guess Danny made such an impression on me and was so unique of all the guys I’ve known in my life that I decided to use him again, this time in my upcoming novella, “Buy Guys” available on Wilde City Press. It’s about two Jersey drifters, Pete and Blaze, who go down to Fort Lauderdale to lead what they mistakenly think will be free and breezy lives as male hustlers; the title, “Buy Guys” is the fiction website on which they post their guys-for-hire ad. In this episode from the book, Pete has lined up a client who thinks is just another old or homey or lonely or whacked-out guy willing to pay for sex. Ah, but not so fast…

When Pete texted back Vinnie who lived in Plantation on what he was looking for, his response was simple but cryptic:
“Somebody who isn’t judgmental.”

Was the guy some troll or ninety year toothless fuck on Viagra? Whatever. Two hundred fifty bucks was two hundred fifty bucks, and Pete’s job was making the guy happy regardless.
Pete could hear the bark of a dog from Vinnie’s apartment even before he knocked. A minute later, Vinnie opened the door.

He was in a wheelchair.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” said the forty-something Christian Bale look-alike with a wavy salt and pepper mop of hair and scruffy beard to the lumbering black lab at his side. He was wearing a white tank and gym shorts and his smooth body was a portrait in contrasts, massive arms and shoulders and bony, withered legs.

He looked up at Pete.

“You okay with me?”

“Fine, buddy, fine,” said Pete, unsure how he felt.

“The bedroom’s back here.” Vinnie swung his chair around as Sammy parted company and made himself comfortable on the living room sofa.

“Your money’s in an envelope on top of the dresser. You can count it if you like.”

“That’s fine,” said Pete who slipped off his sneaks and red T and dropped his running shorts.

“I like the jockstrap,” said Vinnie, nervously scanning his near naked visitor. “Hot. Keep it on.”

Vinnie parked his little chariot on the side of the bed, then lifted himself onto the mattress, and propped himself up on some pillows positioning his legs like they were appendages on a puppet. Then he reached for what looked like some aluminum smoke pipe on the bed stand.

“Want some?”

“What is it?”

“Medical marijuana. Helps ease my leg spasms.” He lit the lighter.

“You can get it here in Florida?”

“No, but I got a buddy in Colorado who brings me a shit load whenever he’s in town.”

Vinnie handed the pipe to Pete who, by now, was straddling Vinnie on the bed. He took a deep drag. The rush reminded him of the meth he had so loved back South of Market. And that had taken him down the wrong road more than once.

“Good shit, right?” smiled Vinnie as he took his turn. Then he placed the pipe back down on the bed stand and exhaled.

“I haven’t been with a guy for six months now, since the accident. But I’ve played with myself some and I know the plumbing’s still working, even if it takes a while. I just didn’t wanna try it with somebody, you know, a trick, till I knew for sure…”

“Well, don’t worry, Vinnie, I’ll be patient.”

“Besides, you remind me so much of Cliff, as soon as I saw your profile, I figured if anybody was gonna get me gonna it would be somebody like you.”

“Cliff an ex of yours?” said Pete, massaging Vinnie’s shoulders.

“He—he was my partner. He was killed in the accident.”

Pete stopped.

“I’m sorry.”

“He was humpy hairy little fucker just like you. We were together five years, were ready to buy a house together even, when some kid on his cellphone went through the red light. He came out of it without even a scratch, but Cliff was killed instantly and me, well…”

“Life is of the moment, right?” said Pete. “Let’s enjoy the moment we’ve got.”

Vinnie began rubbing Pete’s stiffening cock beneath his jock, but Pete was unsure what to do next. Was the guy wearing a Depends, did he have a catheter up his cock? Should he even touch him down there?

Then, without thinking another second, Pete enveloped Vinnie’s shoulders with his arms and rubbed their beards together, then kissed him, as Vinnie stroked the hairs on Pete’s chest and held his head ever closer. Pete could feel Vinnie’s stirring dick on his abs, pre-cum drops wetting the hairs around his belly button. Vinnie guided Pete’s hand down to his crotch. Pete pulled back Vinnie’s shorts, knelt down and sucked his cock, still soft but growing, then began tonguing, then softly sucking his big hairy sac.

As Vinnie turned to strip off his tank top, then his underwear, his naked butt came into view. His cheeks resembled two rotting melons, bruised and miss-shapened, a reality, Pete guessed, of literally sitting on your ass too much.

But Pete quickly refocused on the good, not just what he saw. Well-built shoulders, strong arms, great chest, handsome, manly face. But also what he felt.

And he knew for sure it wasn’t pity.

Vinnie turned out to be a great cocksucker as Pete stood over and straddled him, working his small yet super sensitive nips with his fingers, and after they had licked and sucked and kissed and took a few more drags, Vinnie reached down and began stroking himself, his dick finally rising to the occasion. A smile crossed his face like a thirteen year boy relishing his first erection.

“See what you’re doin’ to me, you hot fucker,” Vinnie murmured as he continued to stroke his cock and motioned Pete to stick his back in his mouth. A minute later Pete was down on his.

So a guy in a wheelchair could not only get a hard-on, thought Pete. He could even enjoy it.

Pete came like Vinnie wanted him to cum, Pete’s man juice dripping from his lips, and, seconds later, he climaxed too. Pete knew he had, not by what didn’t happen – some heavy duty spurting – but by the way he suddenly griped Pete tightly for those moments as he wildly stroked his dick into some kind of oblivion, then lay back, exhausted.

“Thanks buddy, thanks a lot,” said Vinnie, smiling broadly.

“See,” said Pete, as he hopped off the bed. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Don’t forget your money,” said Vinnie gesturing to the envelope on top of the bureau as Pete got dressed.

“Forget it. Consider it compliments of the management.”

Pete was happy he was able to hold it together till he got back into the Bronco. Then he started crying, the first time in a very long time, and didn’t stop till he got back to the motel. It was almost ten.

“Was yours as bad as mine?” said Blaze, lying on the bed, naked, his wet hair glistening from the shower. “Shit, all the guy wanted to do was to blow me which would have been fine if he knew what he was doing. Hell, I think I got bite marks all over my dick. Don’t these backward married guys from Des Moines ever watch porn?”

“Mine was okay,” replied Pete, who was anxious to wash the day away too. “Nothing special.”

Tuesday: My Characters re Real – Mitch