Latino Hearthrob in paris

I woke up that morning with the usual hard-on. Nothing like the morning erection. It's the thing that is uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time. Pleasurable because its naturally the hardest, most adamant erection you could ever potentially achieve without viagra. Strong enough to break through a brick wall. Unconfortable because you have to piss like an old pack mule. This morning, i decided to fight the initial urge to masturbate and urinate instead. This would save some time.
I was in the john, working on getting the damn thing down to size when I heard the doorbell ring.
"Fuck it," i thought, concentrating on a continual flow of a relieving, steamy urination soon to come.
"I know your here, Joan told me you'd be," some woman yelled from the hallway, still ringing away.
"It's open!"
I heard the creak and the step and the woman stop in the center of the living room, probably observing copious amounts of papers stacked and scattered about the room.
"Ah shit," i moaned, finally getting my penis down to a half-assed erection flaccid enough to piss out of.
"Mr. Laroah, i have something urgent to discuss with you, and im in a bit of a hurry," she said urgently, as i caught a slight glimpse of a figure out of my periphrial vision of another individual curiously peeking around the bathroom threshold for a peek.
Shaking myself off, i tucked it away and proceeded to the kitchen to get some breakfast. And that was when i really saw her. Autumn, by birth. She stood there, red plaid dress and velvet blue eyes, impatiently smoking away at a thin red cigarette. Maybe five foot nine, ghostly pale flesh that accentuated her jet hair. I didnt give a flying fuck who came into my house before, i was too busy pissing. And now it had dawned on me that a completely enticing stranger of the opposite sex had entered my house and hadn't left revolted and vomiting on the way out.
"Oh," i managed to mumble, instantly fixiating my eyes on the floor in front of me.
"Mr. Laroah, you have not fulfilled your contract with us, and I'm afraid that Joan Burkshaw is going to start taking legal procedures to ensure that something happens," the woman said, fingering at a stack of papers on the counter.
"I told her i'd have it done by the end of the week, i just have to finish up some proof-reading."
"Well you've had four years to complete the work, do you even have an outline you could provide us?"
"Outline..hm, no. I can give you a stack of papers if you'd like.."
"Would it be relevant to the novel your supposed to be working on now?"
"Well..lets see here.." I groped for the nearest stack. The top paper was entitled 'Sexual Anorexia and The Inevitable Sphinx of Desire' in bold captions.
"Yep," i said, "Here ya go, outline."
She eyeballed me strangely. Fully aware that i had just handed her a stack of some cheese dick writing to shut her up and get her out. She flipped through the pages quickly while i sat and watched earnestly in my dirty undies. After what seemed like interminable ages, she put out her cigarette butt on my counter top apathetically and weakly smiled.
"Perfect," She said, "I'll be seeing you in a week."
And with that, she was gone, leaving the door wide opened behind her as she left.
'One week,' i thought. 'Fuck. i had better write a novel.'
I flounced over to the fridge, now allowing my belly to plop outwards. No use in sucking it in anymore. Grabbing at an opened and half drinken tall boy, i pounded down a flat steele reserve and opened another. What to write about....Maybe a promiscuous encounter with a woman in a red plaid dress. Rape. But reversed roles. She'd rape me, and force me to father her children. Yeah. Thats it. I jumped at the good ol' smith corona machine and began beating away at the keys. I began formulating a list of things in my head as i manically typed along. Rape, gun, child, church, cheese, horsewhip, shoe, dogchain, belt, beef, ecstacy. Stopping to take a drink, i excitedly began reading over my few paragraphs. A woman walks into a bar, and a conversation is initiated. They go home, and fuck like a bunch of sweaty monkeys.
'what absolute shit' i said out loud, enraged at myself. i ripped the paper out, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the john. at least i could put it to good use later.
what kind of jerk off really reads this shit anyways?
I plopped in another piece of paper and stared blankly as the typewriter hummed underneathe my dirt ridden fingers. How futile. Exasperated, i got up and made my way to the bedroom. Once there, i peeled off my stiff underwear and laid in bed naked for a few silent hours until i fell asleep. It was useless anyways.
Everyday went by the exact same way as the one prior to it. I would wake up, sit at the typing machine, belt out a few lines, throw it out, and go to bed.
'not a god damn thing to write about anymore,' i thought to myself when i woke up, still naked and now shivering from the breeze permeating through the cracked window by the bed. By then it was dark outside, and a legion of nightcralwers were teaming and meanering around the city under redlights and bowler hats.
I decided to go and infultrate my existence into theirs. Maybe i could meet somebody who wasnt revolted by me for once.
I put on a pair of pants, shoes, shirt, hat, and went out into the evening fiasco. Once outside the apartment, i was accosted with the overwhelming smell of chinese food frying somewhere down the street. They were everywhere. Little chinese food joints that sold pints of beer in big plastic bags at real frugal prices. I started walking, allowing my nose to take me towards my desire. 12th street, 11th, 10th, etc. Right on down to 5th. Thats where it happened. No matter what time, there was always a formidable crowd of these so called in-tune people hanging around. Junkies, hookers, bookworms, perverts, the whole lot. All of them there for no real reason, other than to pass their life away drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Half of them subconciously to be apart of the so called crowd hanging around. They all knew eachother by name, and of the few that didnt absolutely despise me would confront me as i walked up.
First was Danny. Tall and slender. Real nothing-doer. He was the one that talked to any and everybody under any circumstance and didnt feel akward about doing it. He was the one that you didnt ever really want to talk to.
"Louie, baby! Long time no see!"
"Dan," i reluctantly spat, allowing him to open armedly caress my body with his for a few uncomfortable moments.
"Whats shakin', tubs?" he asked, nodding his head up and down uncontrollably.
"Oh you know..just the whole existence shabang, how about you?"
"Workin', partner. Got a paying gig down on the studio. Alls i do is mop up the cum and piss stains from the lanoleum floor e'ry night and i get my pay. You still working on your book thing?"
"Book? Nah. I've been succumbing to astral perversions and aquatic synthesis. Lots of pedophiliac whet dreams and cosmic encounters with fictional mechanisms and alien organisms."
"ah..cool, man. Well, uh... I'll see you around, i suppose," he said, looking down and strutting away back to his group of followers.
walking down a few doors to The Shrine, i enter the big red door to be greeted by a thick film of smoke and 1970's buttrock and roll playing the same song for the fifty thousandth time that night on the jukebox.
I sit down at my spot. The small two-person table at the far right end of the room with jailhouse bars covering the small, pathetic excuse for a window viewing the outside alleyway. Ju Ju, the little philipino boy came over with a menu and a bag. He knows what i want.
"I bring you bag and menu, Lou Lou, you want assstray?"
"Yes please, and bring me some watermelon sac sac, two cans,"
With that, Ju Ju set down my bag, mug and menu, and walked off to retrieve my sac sac and ashtray. Lighting a smoke, i peered out the window to watch the show. A group of prostitutes, all aged and sagged were standing around scratching at their track marks and applying an extra tube of lipstick to their greasy lips. Nothing special, just an occasional ass scratch and a breast adjustment. Ju Ju came back with my stuff.
"Thank you," i say, giving him a five dollar tip.
"Tank you," he said, bowing and smiling his big jack-o-lantern grin.
I opened the little tap at the top of the bag and poured the smut into my mug. It was cold, and instantly frosted the glass and flooded over with foam. I took a long exaggerated drink and leaned my head back against the booth, closing my eyes and allowing my mind to go completely blank and drift off into a light slumber.

The Colluseum:
The type of breezy afternoon when the dust infultrates into your nostrils at alarming rates, causing you to sneeze half a million times through out the duration of the day. A crowd of filthy, hairy men sweat over eachother in the high rise bleachers surrounding the vast dirt hole in the middle. Slopped beer, saliva, and concealed erections. More than half of them need to shit.
And the bell rings.
Two morbidly obese men enter from opposite sides of the stadium, both completely naked and patched in thick, depressing blotches of body hair. Inching their way towards eachother, both men take on a sumo-wrestler impression, jiggling their way around eachother until neither of the two men can coneal their erections. Now the objective begins; to successfully molest the other into oblivion.
A monotonous roar generates in the crowd, and the two men can now be seen in an interminable series of grunts and thrusts and naked flesh. Cats game, no distinguishable winner. Bored now, a loud voice over the intercom yells,
"Release the hounds!"
And out of a large steel entrapment hordes a copious amount of nude and starving children with razor sharp metallic unicorn horns welded onto their foreheads with soldering irons.
It works on a first come, first serve basis. Some children audaciously attack one another to ensure first dibs at a fat man. One of the men, realizing he is going to be eaten alive by a group of savagely mutated children, hurredly tries to jerk off one more time before the end. But of course with no avail. He and the other are completely devoured within a few short seconds. Now, greedy and still hungry, the boys and girls eyeball eachother and brace themselves for attack.

"I knew i'd find you here," a voice says, snapping me back into the insipid and dour reality of a smokey oriental haven.
"mm."
"Jeeze Louise, your always here," says the voice annoyedly.
Opening my eyes i saw that stupid asshole, Gerald Lee Bishops, the man of many sexual encounters. He was short and stout, and sported a burly black mustache that covered the upper portion of his tightly knit mouth. There was a smell about him that screamed pedophile, or rapist. Not that those certain individuals have a distinct smell, but Bishops just generally smelled of semen and vodka. He was probably out on parole or something of the sort.
"Ya know," He started, sitting down, "Years ago, when i was discharged from the United States Marine Cor., i moved into my parents house in Cincinatti. They were senile by then, and didnt give a flyin' hoot about what i did or who i did it with. So one night, i invited this big momma over for some shooters. She was pushin' three hunnerd er so, but man, i'll tell ya, ain't nothin' like gettin' some cushion!" he har harred full heartedly, pouring the remnants of my beer bag into his mug.
I watched him sombrely, allowing my heart to break at the sight of him finishing off my beloved alcohol. He must have noticed.
"Oh, shore shore, bubba," he chuckled, "Don't you worry about a thing," signaling for Ju Ju to bring another sack.
"As i was sayin'," he continued,"I got her nekkid and jumped right to it, stickin' my boy in anything big enough to support my mammoth," he said, winking and nudging me hard.
On he blabbed: "I woke up in the morning, and saw that whale blubber crowding my space, stains on my bed...the whole works. The old bag was snoring away, and all my sheets were on the floor, so i jammed them all into the washer and went to the fridge for something good to eat. Har har! I opened my refridgerator, still buck nekkid, and and start chewing away at a brick of sharp cheddar cheese, and walked around the house. I got to thinking about getting myself of of those jobs, get straight, ya know? Raise a family... and then it happened. i walked right into my kitchen wall, dick first. Har har har har har! i fell down, and cried. Ever seen a grown man cry, Lou? Betchya not! Ain't no man gonna go cryin less hes some pussy faggot, or gets his hard dick poked into a wall! Har har..ah, sheeit."
Ju Ju came back with the bag, slopped it down on the table, and graciously accepted our thanks.
"You know what i mean, Lou lou?"
"Yep, gotchya." i mumbled, adamant to leave and picking up my coat from the floor.
"I dont think you even listened to a god damn thing i just said,"
I hesitated and looked down, knowing the veins in his neck were probably bulging and sucking the blood from thre rest of his body into his face.
"You'd be lucky if i didnt shoot your sorry sheeit right here," he exclaimed, pulling back the left side of his shiny leather coat to show me his holster and gun. "Now, git up and follow me, we're goin' on a little field trip."
"I shouldn't, really, i got to go to wor-"
"Nigger, i said git up!"
Complying, and mildly scared for my life, i staggered behind as he led me outside of the big red front door of The Shrine and into the now snowy, early January morning. The sun had not come up yet. In his haste, Bishops neglected to pay our tab, and unfortunate Ju Ju came out angrily, demanding his money.
"Mista, you pay, you pay now!"
Swiftly turning around and pulling out his six shooter, Bishops deftly put a silver bullet into the center of Ju Ju's boyish face in a matter of miliseconds; pasting brain matter across a dozen feet of freshly fallen snow. The fragments of face steamed underneathe the dimly lit streetlight momentarily, and turning back towards me, Bishops motioned for me to follow with the barrel of his weapon and a quick cock of the head.
"Don't you worry about him, we'll be to the station prettyy quick here,"
Silently acquiescing, i followed the drunken man into the alley way until we stopped at the end where there was a large ten foot brick wall preventing us from continuing. This must be the place where he goes to pass out every night.
"De karper is gecasteerd," he said into a hole in the wall where a brick was missing only a few short moments before a large squadron of black vehicles screeched up behind us.
"This is it," i said aloud, "life imprisonment, aiding and abeting murder. You fucking asshole Bishop."
Two young men with black and white pinstriped suits ran up as i was clasping my hands behind my head.
"Sir," one of them piped, "Precautionary procedures have been carried out, we just need you to press the button."
"Yessir," said the other, standing to attention,"Ms. Autumn requests your presence a.s.a.p."
I idled for a moment, waiting for them tackle me and beat me with the butt of their guns before i realized they were both looking at me impatiently.
The dicks were obviously fucking with me, and they might as well. They already had me cornered with the man who still had the warm murder weapon in his hand.
"Are you okay, sir?" one of the pinstriped boys asked with a worried expression on his face.
"Git in the car Lou, we ain't playin' round' no more," Bishops said, winking and climing into the backseat of the nearest black car to him.
With that, the two young men in suits followed, leaving me with my hands still behind my head while seven black cars kept their headlights fixated on me against the redbrick wall. A car sounded the horn, and i wearily put down my arms, expecting them to open fire on me at any moment. I winced and closed my eyes, thinking i heard guns cocking and yelling. No. Opening them, I found the same black cars in the same still position, all with running engines. I slowly made my way to the same vehicle that Bishops climed into, and opened the door as fast as humanly possible and jumped aside, expecting to have to dodge a bullet as soon as i opened it. No again. I climbed in, still cautious, and closed the door behind me. Bishops was already working on an expensive looking bottle of liquor, and the cars started moving almost immediately.
We moved in one big convoy, our car in dead center, while three cars in front and three behind escorted us out of the alleyway and directly onto the freeway.
"What the fuck is going on here, man?" i demanded as soon as i realized that the boys in pinstripes weren't actually going to kill me or take me to prison just yet.
"Whadya think, partner? Going to the rally, every one is just