Graphics Slacker

By Davis Trell

Published on Oct 6, 1996

Gay

Controls

Organization: Arora

Graphics Slacker part 1/3 by davistrell@aol.com.

I was totally embarrassed! I'd been caught without a good explanation!

I'd invited a young friend, Jerome for a computer lesson. He was a mid-twenties slacker who wanted to be an underground cartoonist. I'd gotten him a little work at the Ad agency I worked for. He could draw really well, but things were slightly 'off': angst-ridden faces wouldn't do for a story board with Sharon Stone exhorting us to buy Crisco Oil.

He knew of my computer graphics interest, and I offered to teach him some stuff, so he might persuade a Temp agency find him employment.

So he came to my place; wearing the uniform of an urban surfer. A torn T-shirt with a Keith Haring-like picture advertising an AIDS-a-thon.

Well, I'd only intended to show him a page layout program, but knowing his art shit, I decided to run my painting / image processing program.

But I'd forgotten! Clicking on 'Open' instead of 'New', the fucking software defaulted to the last seen picture. I inadvertently had double clicked, opening a photo of two butt-nekkid stallion studs fucking each other in the ass!

I download this stuff all the time off a gay BBS and jerk off to these sleazy stud-muffins that I wouldn't get to fuck in my dreams.

Jerry's jaw fell like a Tex Avery cartoon!

"You a fuckin' faggot, man. You a brown holeing Queer..? You wanna suck my dick..? Drive down my Hershey highway..is that why you invited me over?"

These angry words startled me.

"No,..no." I protested. " You know I'm an artist! I..er...use graphics like these to...practice anatomy...."

It sounded lame even to my ears.

I hadn't come out. I didn't want it to be known. I feared the social ostracism more than being punched silly in an alleyway. I just lived another life, getting sex in Tea rooms and with bar pickups. I didn't want folks in the agency to know my dark, furtive sex life. A bit like straights not dating, or shitting as they put it, in the work-place.

But these stinging insults bit my ears. I held the sides of my head, knees buckling, I was gonna cry!

"Hey man, cool it, I was only kidding!"

He took me by the shoulders and sat me down.

"You got more of those pictures? This I gotta see!"

He sat on my lap between me and the computer screen, his baggy shorts thin enough to let me nestle my crotch in his buttcrack.

"Sorry I scared you, it was a fucking bad joke, I'm sorry. Show me more!"

I opened a dialog box with the file entries. Reading through the list with their unintelligible file names, I chose "apyX0040.gif".

On screen exploded a view of a giant penis firmly held by muscular hands, slightly hairy, ejaculating a dripping bead of semen. Transparently glowing against the dark background. The helmet crowned head atop a pink-gold marbled column, the envy of any classical architect. The bulbous ball-sac, ridged with elephant hide, a texture only Rembrandt could capture with his oily impasto.

"Way cool, dude.." he said with his infantile superlatives.

He dressed on the right, so when I slipped my hand under his baggy shorts I found his tepid hardon.

"yeh that's cool, man. I'll let you jerk me off. Lemme slip these off."

He did, with easy movements. Had he really not done this before?

"Show another picture.."

Thank goodness my program creates a preview thumb nail of the pictures, so I could control the magic lantern slideshow. The youth on screen, three inches tall from crotch to head was open, inviting. He wore only white remnants, shreds of torn clothing, exposing his naked body. He bore a more than manly size erection, laying across his taut stretched belly, hiding a mossy-hair dappled mound. His cream yellowy skintones blended into darker pink-ocher, where blood was closer to the surface running under muscular flesh. His two brown-pink nipples forming an abstract triangle with his navel, pointing at his genitalia.

I used to have a small charm bracelet sized key that would've fitted into his key hole shaped belly button; opening him up, making him press his satin thighs to my ears.. He was bathed in an ice cream light with cake icing on it.

"Fuckin A, man! That's one hot lookin' dude," said Jerry with his giant vocabulary.

"I teased his boner, flexing it, testing it; wrapping my fingers around him until my thumb and fingers didn't quite meet. I rubbed him, toying with his now growing erection.

" ..that's nice.." he said as he churned his butt in my lap.

"show the next picture.."

Clicking off the close box, I replaced the image. This time, a Tennis pro at a Gloryhole, with a cock poking through. A chain of cum from an anonymous piss-slit hanging like a diaper fold, leading to the tennis guy's lips.The blond sat legs up, with a naked pelvis, fingering his own rigid penis. A tennis sneaker peered from a under a graffiti covered stall; there was the tiniest suggestion of a reflection of pink buttocks in the white porcelain toilet bowl. I could tongue worship his glorious asshole, praying homage to his magnificent manhood.

Graphics Slacker part 2/3 by davistrell@aol.com.

The next picture showed a cumshot. The man's face covered with cum, oozing from a still rubbing penis. The recipient, a hunky body builder with a Norman Rockwell Tattoo emblazoned on a powerful shoulder. The apex of the composition, the sexual emission taking place at the center, creating imaginary lines from corner to corner, creating a vortex radial burst. The powerful diagonals rhymed with highlights running along an arm, picked up by the other's jutting jawline. A powerful vertical driven down on the Golden Mean by a tree-trunk arm supporting the masturbator, spilling his ejaculation on his companion's lips. Good composition.

"Shit..can men really do that?..Suck each other's cum like that..?"

"You want me to show you how, dude," I said, echoing his phrases.Like, err...you know what I'm saying...

His face showed curiosity, his pupils dilated like a pupil's should.His baggy pants way down around his ankles..

"Stand up, then. Let me teach you."

I took his cock in my mouth and slowly swallowed. My left arm cradling his buttocks, leaving my right hand free to alternate between my hardon and mouse.

I closed the old pic, and opened a fresh picture with a keyboard equivalent formed by casting my hand into a claw to reach distant keys. I'm becoming an expert one-fisted typist.

This new computer scan was kind of raunchy.

With Jerry, rocking back and forth, his cock in my mouth, licking and suckling, I strained to view the image on screen. We'd started doing this as the sun was going down, like me on him, and now only the computer illuminated the darkened room.

Lighting Jerome eerily, as he leaned in for a closer look, supporting himself on my desk table.

"Gnarly...ugly fuckin' guy getting a tongue bath of cum...looks like snot...white snot....O mi god! That other guy's prick's coming from under!....Fuck.. that guy's got a finger poking in his ass...Fuck, you can see his curly ass hairs...this is fuckin' intense man..."

He squirmed with delight as I mouth-massaged his cockmeat. He started to get the idea. He put his forearms on my shoulder and started to facefuck me with a rhythm of an old blues guitarist whanging loud, hard and slow on the muffled strings of a rosewood beat up guitar . "Show me another...picture...I wanna see it all!" he yelled, sotto voce.

I chose a picture I'd saved, and renamed it 'Ass Angel', an alias I'd found in the personal ads on that BBS. The description there didn't match the current cutie onscreen. Here was medium dark 30 yr old african-american in the buff. The low camera angle displayed a semi-hard dick and an in-your face butthole. The contrasty lighting caused deep dark shadows, obscuring yet revealing the relief planes where the two butt cushions meet. The mind fills in the forms concealed in the dark areas, making those special, secret places more tangible, tactile.

My fingers traced a calligraphic path over Jerry's inner thighs leading my index finger to his probably pink hole, which from his remarks might be definitely virgin territory. I poked inquisitively, slipping into his cherry ass with a rotary, exploratory finger. It reminded me of the shrinking process in that Dennis Quaid movie. If I could be the size of my finger, inside his ass, licking the clammy walls of his rectum. Dimensionally challenged! Then I'd grow full size again when I was ready to fuck him,... if I get that far!

"...friggin' my butt...that's cool, way, way cool....man..."

I had to find another pic. Quickly. With my left hand working his butt, my mouthful of mancock, I struggled to replace the last image.My free finger hit the enter key, an alias for OK, and I let random chance choose the picture.

The guy rimming the cropped ass, had a defined, yet lean torso. Sort of thing Michaelangelo would have tossed off in his younger days when he was modeling sexy sculptures of Son's before he changed and fashioned Daddies with swollen, turgid, sensual musculature of graying Satyrs.

"... he's fuckin' tongueing that guy's butt...fuck he's got his nose right up in it...can't he smell that guy's shit?......"

"You get to like it." I said. I paused.

"You're not wanting to take a crap, are you?"

"..n..no...I had a shit before I left. Took a shower as well."

"You want to know what it's like to have a tongue in your ass,stud? Turn your butt to face me..yes, like that, just like that."

Jerry rested his arm on the chair back; I don't use a stool; he bent slightly, exposing his butteye, moving it closer to my lips.

"Don't stop showing that fuckstuff...." he demanded, adjusting himself so he could view the gay erotica as I prefer to call it..

I was timing well, like a d.j. planning the sequence of music for his late-nite intimate cult show. 'Slow Fuck Soul'.

The new scan; a rear entry, side-saddle, butt-fuck beginning.

The eye was immediately drawn to the focus of the action. Confidently reaming his buddy's yielding butt with his submerged cock, creating a compulsive magnetic visual center of attraction. But a dynamically curving diagonal arc dragged attention to the fucked's anguished face. His pageboy haircut and cupid lips were distended in a perfect O, his bird like eye- brows furrowed in the center, his eyes tightly clenched, (holding back tears?), revealed a scan of early seventies porn with its out of date color harmony.

"...wouldn't that hurt??... I mean...having someone pork your asshole like that..."

Graphics Slacker part 3/3 by davistrell@aol.com.

Jerry was obviously enjoyed my rimming techniques, stroking his own cock with pleasure. I imagined my tongue as a hot electric wire causing slight shock sensations wherever it touched. Vibrating sexual sensations, like tongueing a nine volt battery. I ran over his pucker, dwelling, swirling and sucking. Sliding my tongue like a painter's brush, wending deeper, spittle painting with saliva: soft succulent embraces ; anal kisses, furling and unfurling my lips, drooling with delight. My tongue swirled over, around and inside his sexy starburst. Lapping up his sweat and my saliva, lubricating all the time. I stiffened my tongue and folded it into a fleshy arrow, pushing into him. Tunneling into his copper colored mine-shaft, digging for gold. I shook my head from side to side as if repeatedly saying "no", rapidly, penetrating forward, inside, my tongue performing acrobatics inside his shit chute.

Miraculously I managed to load another picture, and in my haste we ended up with two pictures of the same subject; Dicks in Asses. One man had bent forward 90 degrees, clutching his massive thighs, accepting his partner's rear-penetrating cock. The other scan, more sensual, bathed in chiaroscuro displayed the sleepy, dazed expression of the filipino being inserted by an entertaining, lithe, bronzed latino hero. The firm, curvaceous generous globes enveloping a parcel of hope.

" ..it must hurt...my assholes too small...I couldn't take... those guys have joints like fat cucumbers.."

"Your ass would adust to accommodate any size of penis. You've seen the size of your own shit! Think of that turd you expelled, that was so long, I bet it was pretty broad,too...You had that all that way up your ass right to your stomach. You must have had one of those 'great' shits when the turd train squirmed out of you. How fuckin' great it felt! You were having an anal orgasm without knowing it!"

" .. fuck.. your right! I never thought of that! I've had some mighty big fuckin' great shits, man!"

All this time my pants had remained closed, so I adroitly remedied that, shucking them off like a David Copperfield escape routine.

"Sit on my cock."

I held him, positioning his buttocks over my pulsating manrod, his arched ass hovering over my hardon. Gingerly he lowered himself until he made contact.

"Hey!.. that guy's wearing a condom! You got any? You ain't cumming in my butt without protection!"

"I got" I mumbled, as I reached into my desk drawer. Among the diskettes and manuals and fuckbooks, I found one. I'll wait to buy more when that cute guy in the Thrifty's is on duty.

While Jerry undid the package, I loaded more pictures. Guys fucking missionary style by a summer pool. Full penetration; you could see his balls slap against a pounded butt, his thighs under the top's chest, his legs raised over the shoulders. They beam with delight participating in their mutual pleasure, rising and falling, entering and absorbing.The pool water glistening with dancing light, matching the movements of their horny rhythms.

I took the condom and dressed for sex. Jerome resumed his squatting, seated position on my shielded, slippery man-meat and started to push down. Up and down elevators sharing the same shaft.

" ...make like you're taking a shit, it'll spread your sphincter."

He took my advice and bore himself down on my pole. I had speared the prey!

I flashed yet another scan of a butt fucking scene. The receiver had spread his legs wide and Jerome took the hint. He groaned deliriously as my balls reached his pelvic floor, as I rammed up as far as I could go, all the way to the hilt. I rotated his butt around my lighthouse dick, churning ass butter. A Vermeer sheen of sweat glistened, in the video light shining on his face. I channel surfed over his nipples, masturbated him,weighed his balls. I played him like a pinball machine, lights flashing, hi-scoring. His cock tensile like a coiled spring, squashing and stretching as he jerked himself off.

"..Fuck..feels great..I can't believe we're doin' this!.."

"In this position, you've got to provide the fuck power. You're in control! Ride me as if I was a jockey mounted Arab stallion in the Kentucky Derby..."

The image I had was a painting of a young Napoleon mounted on a rearing charger before the Battle of Mazeppo. The rodeo rider, riding on my horse cock was performing like a star. If I wanted, and I didn't, want to throw him off, I couldn't. I expected him to yell "Yahoo" at any minute. I managed to fire off a final picture. A giant cum stained cock, tired and flaccid resting against a close-up anus, liberally covered with dripping rivulets and pools of opalescent glass-liquid, with a white center; oozing mancreme. I grabbed Jerome by the waist and rammed him down and held him, as I expended a volcano of cum. I spasmed violently, draining and savoring every sensation as I released wave after wave sex liquid into him.

" man.. I gotta cum too..," he implored.

We disengaged and I engulfed his hysterical man-ness with my mouth.The heat scorched the inside of my cheeks.

With swift bobbing head movements, I brought him to the boil and beyond. His face grimaced like a japanese Noh mask as he spent his load.His whole body paroxysmed and shuddered, sputtering, spewing. He trembled. And pulled hmy head so my face felt every wrack of his hard breathing belly. His cock threshed like a newly landed fish till if finall came to rest, drained.

"..Fuck, man,...fuck and double fuck.."

When he calmed down an angelic smile crossed his face as he released his ecstasy.

"I gotta learn more computer stuff," he said.

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