I heard slobbering dick sucking sounds for the second time within an hour, but for some reason I stood there and watched. Light snow flurries began to fly before my face. The cold, yet somehow comfortable wind brushed gently against my body as I watched the cocksucking carnival. A car full of rednecks drove by, shouted out “Faggot!” to me. I began to become aroused somehow, though, by all the despair and I felt deep within my soul that if I played with my cock and watched Nate and Henry go at it—if I did this and concentrated hard enough, stroked my cock fast enough, that I would somehow see a vision of golden love that would make me happy, if only for a short while. The werewoman of my dreams would pop out of nowhere, maybe in the form of Barney apologizing to me for his cruel phone number pranks as he lies down in the snow and spreads his legs for me, his gaping, tight hairy golden blonde pussy there for me to gracefully fuck as I howl at the moon in expression of my love for him and sorrow for all the people I know he killed in Iraq.
I didn’t want the two men to see my penis, or know what I was doing, so I leaned against the side of the building, pulled my hard dick out and peeked around the corner at them, hoping a cop wouldn’t drive by and see what I was doing.
“Oh, yes, your mouth is making my cock nice and warm,” Nate whispered to Henry. “I was beginning to think it would freeze off, I was waiting out here so long. I somehow knew you would come suck it , though.”
“I always do, don’t I?” Henry said. “A cock is always most cold and lonely before it finds its way into a nice, warm mouth, wouldn’t you agree?”
Half-frozen tears started to stream from my eyes as I looked at the two “men,” then concentrated on Nate’s white toboggan, stroking myself to the bittersweet memories until Nate and I ejaculated at around the same time. My screaming, dying holy cum ghosts fell to the snow-covered parking lot while his splattered across Henry’s face in a simultaneous celebration of absolutely nothing but cum squirting out of two men’s dicks outside of a porn store. Alas, there were no visions of golden love and happiness. There was no mystical golden-furred werewoman coming to save me.
Having finished my janitorial duties for the day, I went back in the store, figuring it was time for me to take the counter and begin pricing the huge shipment of DVD’s we’d received yesterday. My boss had always told me not to wear my werewolf mask at work but I defiantly went back and grabbed it from a hook in my janitor’s closet, put it over my head as I peered through the eyeholes and breathed heavily behind the brown, menacing mask covered in thick fake fur. I was behind the counter and it was 6am. I noticed Tony, the Token Guy, was in the office doing his weekly reimbursement. Feeling like I’d been hit by a truck and eager to get Grant the fuck out of my sight, him and I did shift changeover and he left. My boss was due to show up in a couple hours so I had to hurry up and price all the DVD’s because I was supposed to have already had them out on the floor by now.
Not to sink into some sort of misanthropic, “I’m such a grumpy-ass” cliché, but one of my pet peeves has to be when a total stranger comes up to you when you are in a bad mood and says, “Smile, it can’t be that bad”. I hate that! It makes me want to kill them! Hee! I was behind the counter, frustrated, trying to price all these DVDS as suddenly the “morning rush” of cocksucking queer after masturbating fuck kept coming into the store, interrupting me to get their tokens. Finally, I got all the “straight” DVDs priced, set them aside. I then had the gay ones left and to price them I had to go back in the office to get the SpecIaL YeLLoW PrIcE GUN a gun which uses yellow tags. All the straight movies get a white tag, the gay ones get yellow. I run back in the office because I’m getting swamped by masturbators. Tony the Token Guy is in there with his shit sprawled all over the place, all these buckets of golden tokens lying around. I have to reach over him to get the SpEcIaL YeLLoW PrICE GuN from the wall and I lose my balance, knock all these fucking tokens all over the place.
Of course, it’s a huge mess I know I’ll have to clean up later. I’m pissed, bring the SpeCiaL YeLLoW PriCe GuN back to the counter and there is this idiot queer cum-choker standing there waiting for me to sell him his, yes, ToKEnS, of course, and he has the gall and insensitivity to say to me, “Smile, it can’t be that bad”. After all that had happened to me that night, I was furious, just frustrated and bottled up beyond belief, but I tried to keep my cool. I said to him, snarling behind my werewolf mask, “I hate it when people say that.” “Oh really,” the guy says in an exaggerated feminine-sounding voice, “why is that, Mr. Werewolf? Didn’t your boss tell you not to wear that mask here at the store anymore because it scares away the customers?” The way the guy smiled at me and just his sheer, numbskull insensitivity to whatever might be going on in my life at the time, to actually say to me, “smile, it can’t be that bad,” not knowing me at all, having no idea what I’d just been through that night and how miserable my life was, sent me into a silent rage. Then I thought of how the reason this guy is like this, so happy-go-lucky, is because all he cares about in life is sucking a cock. That’s all he ever worries about! That’s all any of these fuckers are ever concerned about, is sucking another man’s dick. Ten dicks a day, twenty, fifty, it’s never enough, but just the thought of it makes them happy, keeps them smiling the live-long day. If this guy is not sucking a cock he is loitering in the arcade or harassing customers on the floor while he waits to suck a cock and if he isn't in the store waiting to suck a dick he is circling around the block waiting to see who pulls into the parking lot.
Everything just started to cave in on me and I said to him, softly at first, “Because you never know what is going on in a person’s life when you tell them to smile. Maybe my dog just died. Maybe I’m getting kicked out of my apartment; or have bills I can’t pay; maybe my mother just died in a car wreck or my father has cancer,” getting louder, “or maybe I’m just sick of,” now screaming and shaking the SpECiAL YeLLoW PrICe GUN in his face, “ SELLING TOKENS TO PIECES OF SHIT LIKE YOU WHO DON’T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN SUCK GUYS’ DICKS ALL FUCKING DAY!! Then, unable to control my rage, I leaped over the counter like a limber, malevolent witch’s toad and BaShEd that happy-go-lucky piece of filth in the head with the price gun.
