Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Despite my faux pas, Mace and I got closer and closer Monday to Monday. And, Mondays soon were not enough for us. We started hanging out most nights that I didn't have to study, sometimes with Avery and Bruce and sometimes just the two of us.

When Avery and Bruce were around, they were too honest with Mace. They were explicit about the five years I had been out. They had nicknamed me Puta and referred to me as a "man whore." I wanted to reign them in, but I couldn't.

Mace seemed unfazed by their stories. He did not view me as an option, so there was no reason for him to fret over my sexploits.

For Halloween, Bruce had a "Dead Rock Star" party. Mace had let his hair grow, so he tucked it behind his ears, grew a little scruff, and showed up as a stunning Kurt Cobain. I went easy, shaved my face, and showed up as Richie Valens, the only Latino I could think of. Bruce dragged out as Janis Joplin. And, Avery scuzzed up a little as Jimi Hendrix.

We were all very drunk by the time the last guests wobbled out. Bruce suggested an old fashioned slumber party, so we used his comforter and blankets to build a bed on the floor. I was the last one out of the bathroom, so they were already settled with Mace closest to the wall and Avery in the middle. I had no idea what they were wearing, but I was in yellow boxer briefs. I owned only yellow underwear, as I thought they looked best against my brown skin and body hair.

I laid down next to Bruce, torqued by the sequence of bodies. Momentarily inspired, I rolled onto Bruce, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." I had drunkenly made out with Bruce once, but we had never hooked up.

I then rolled onto Avery, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." Avery and I had hooked up on and off over the years, usually only as booty calls to get off when we struck out on the prowl. I liked his smooth, soft skin, and his big black cock. We were both hounds, so anything other than a greedy fuck was out of the question.

I then rolled onto Mace, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." I lingered on top of him, and I could feel him getting hard against me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I pressed my crotch into his, but he didn't press back.

"Scooch over," I whispered. "I want to sleep next to the wall."

Mace shifted over, and Avery and Bruce followed suit. I didn't think I'd get away with it, and I didn't.

"Hey, Puta," Avery offered. "If you had wanted to sleep next to Blondie, all you had to do was say so. I shouldn't have had to endure a kiss for it."

"Endure?" I asked, mockingly, and raising up on my right arm. "You know you loved having these luscious brown slips pressed to your thick black ones."

"Been there, done that," he answered, rolling his eyes at me. "Like always, you were thinking of someone else while you were kissing me."

"Yep," added Bruce. "Like always. So very Juan of you."

"I am starting to sense some anti-immigrant bigotry," I teased.

"No," Bruce laughed. "You are starting to sense some ongoing anti-whore bigotry."

"Glass houses, Bitch," I responded. "I'm not the one who got fucked against a fence in an alley last Friday night."

"In my defense," Bruce offered, "it was a nice fence. Wrought iron, not chain link."

"Still, it was a fucking fence," I said, sarcastically slut-shaming him.

Avery jumped in. "It may not have been against a fence, but I'm pretty sure you got fucked Friday night."

"I didn't," I defended myself.

"Then you fucked someone."

The room went silent. I couldn't deny that which was true.

Bruce slowly drawled out. "Uhmmmm hmmmm."

I pounced on Avery. "What about you, Mandingo? I saw who you left with."

"I'm sure you mean 'with whom you left,'" Avery, always the grammarian, corrected me. "And, to answer your question, I had a decent Friday night, but a better Saturday morning."

"You let that chicken stay over?"

"No. I sent him away. But, I booty called him back the next morning. His tight white ass deserved another pounding."

Avery was proud of his promiscuity. Every Sunday brunch, he drawled out "I am Mandingo" if he had gotten laid that weekend. The self-moniker had stuck.

Mace finally spoke up. "I feel like I'm in an episode of Golden Girls, but you're all Blanche."

He was right, and we erupted in laughter. But, I had achieved my goal. I was next to Mace on the floor, with no one else beside me.

"Do you all call me Blondie?" he asked.

"Only when you're not around," Bruce answered.

"Even you?" he asked, looking at me.

"Even me."

Once we stopped laughing and trolling each other, I rolled onto my right side and stared at Mace. He was on his back, under the sheet. I put my hand on his chest and played with the hair that protruded from the veed neck of his shirt. When he looked at me, I kissed his nose.

"Juan," he warned.

"Shhh. It's nothing."

I slid my hand under the sheet, up his shirt, and played with his chest hair. Mace tensed, then relaxed.

"Take your shirt off," I pleaded. He didn't, but he pulled it up, and I tickled his stomach and sides. As I tickled lower, Mace tensed. I wanted to move to his cock, but I knew he'd recoil if I did. So, I moved my hand to his face and traced it with my forefinger. I started at his widow's peak, and traced down to the tip of his nose. I then traced back up to his eyes, encircling them both. I traced back to the tip of his nose, down his philtrum, and across and around his lips. He pursed his lips as I did. His lips were so full and smooth and soft, I moved my face to them and kissed him. To my surprise, he kissed me back, rolling into me. I opened my mouth, and he responded by opening his. Our tongues danced and fought. When the kissed ended, he said "I'm sorry, Juan. I can't do this."

He rolled his back to me. I moved behind him and tried to put my arm around him. He wouldn't have it. He pulled his hands to his chest and tensed against my touch. I hugged him. It was like hugging an ironing board. I had overstepped. I backed off, rolling onto my back and sleeping next to Mace, but not touching him.

*****

The next morning, Mace was the last to awake. Avery, Bruce, and I were having coffee on Bruce's patio and gossiping while Mace slept.

"His dick is huge," I said.

"Did you touch it?" Avery asked.

"Not directly. But, while I laid on him, he started to get hard. It was like the stay puff marshmallow man. It kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger."

"Bigger than Malabar?" Avery asked. Avery was very proud of his long, thick cock and called it Malabar.

"Sorry, Avery," I said. "But, I think Malabar's got a rival."

Mace stepped onto the patio. We all fell silent, giggling. Mace was no fool.

"So, were you talking about me?" he asked.

"No," we all responded, in unison.

"And, that's why you shut down when I stepped out. You really are the Golden Girls, aren't you?"

Mace did not wait for our answer. He turned, retreated into Bruce's apartment, and started gathering himself into his backpack. But, from that moment, Avery, Bruce, and I started calling ourselves "the Girls" or "the GGs."

I joined Mace in Bruce's living room. "Hey, Mace," I started. "I'm really sorry about last night."

"Don't be," he said. "I knew what was going on. I like being touched. Up to a point."

"So, we're cool?"

"Very."

"Awesome."

"Yes, we are awesome," he agreed, hugging me and kissing my nose.

When he was gone, Avery accused me of being in love with him.

"I'm not," I protested.

"Well, you're at least in lust with him."

"I am," I admitted. "He's hot, a great kisser, and he has a huge cock. I'd love to bed him."

"You kissed him?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"Yes. Last night. For a second or two."

"Oh, Puta, it is more than lust," Avery accused. "I see the way you look at him. Like he's your first puppy."

"It's not more than that," I lied. It was, and I knew it. I just didn't know what to do about it.