After a night of bar hopping with my friends, Trick and Rabbit, and unable to find a place to crash for the night, we faced the rise of the morning sun exhausted and hung over. We all lamented blowing through our money without securing a motel room first. So, we went to the public library to nurse our hangovers in the air conditioning, drinking as much water as possible from the water fountains.
It wasn't until Rabbit made an off-hand comment that he and Trick should sell my ass to get a room that Trick suddenly perked up and asked for change for the pay phone. He promptly disappeared for several minutes, then returned smiling.
"I called my ex-boyfriend, Marcel, who is going to meet us here and get us a room for the night."
"How did you pull that off?" Rabbit asked with amazement.
"I just explained the situation and he agreed to help."
Within thirty minutes, Marcel arrived, and we were on our way to a cheap motel. Marcel was a mixed race black man with a gregarious personality, six feet tall, with a sold build. I liked him from the start, but I imagined most people probably did.
Once we were in the room, Marcel went to find some food, and I headed straight for the showers. Being homeless doesn't mean you have to be dirty, and I had become very particular about my appearance shortly after I found my footing on the streets. After I had showered and slipped into a clean pair of shorts I had stashed in my bag, Marcel had already returned with a bucket of the Colonel's secret recipe and two liters of coke. Trick and Rabbit commandeered the shower together, arguing over the availability of hot water, leaving me alone with Marcel. I sat on the edge of one of the beds and watched TV before Trick and Rabbit stole the remote and switched the channel to one of the Spanish stations.
"Do you think those two are fucking?" Fred asked me. I thought I might have heard a hint of jealousy in his voice.
"Not that I'm aware of," I answered him honestly, "I think they're really close, but I think it's just friendship."
"What about you?" Fred asked, rubbing his hand over what little hair I had on my chest, "Do you have a significant other?"
"No," I answered, wondering where this was heading. I had never had sex with a black man before. "I'm a free agent right now."
"Are your pubes red too?" he asked as his hand moved down my flat stomach, which is hairier than my chest, clearly on its way to my crotch. I swallowed hard out of nervousness. Hooking my thumb into the waist band of my shorts, I tugged them down to reveal my fiery red crotch.
Up to that point, the guys I was with were only interested in my ass and mouth. No one other than me had ever touched my dick. Now I held my breath as Marcel ran his fingers through my bush.
I heard the faucet handle on the shower squeak and Fred withdrew his hand like he had been snake bitten.
Trick came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but boxers. His body toned, his skin the color of latte, with a thin treasure trail that began at his navel and traveled down to what appeared to be a nice sized cock I saw in the showers at the city shelter. If it weren't for his overly dramatic personality, I would have been all over him, but I preferred a more masculine man.
Rabbit could easily pass for straight. His lean, muscular body was more of a mocha color, like Marcel's, and he had a hypnotic loose swinging cock that bounced against the fabric of his sweat pants invitingly. In the showers, I was more fascinated with Rabbit's firm, round muscular ass. I don't know why, but I've always like guys with cute little butts, even though I was not looking to fuck them.
"Well, I kept my end of the bargain," Marcel announced after the commotion calmed down and Trick and Rabbit were eating. I chose to nurse a coke, unable to stomach the idea of eating just yet.
"Oh, yeah," Trick said, as if he had forgotten something, "Juero, go fuck Marcel."
"What?" I exclaimed, a little louder than I planned to. Marcel noticed my surprise.