Read Online Second You Sin by Scott Sherman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scott Sherman
Tags: Fiction, General, Gay, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery Fiction, New York, New York (State), New York (N.Y.), Murder - Investigation, Gay Men, Gay Men - New York (State) - New York, Male Prostitutes - New York (State) - New York
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as he emptied a can of whipped cream right into my boxer briefs. My trying to get away (wel , not real y, but I squirmed enough to make it believable) only turned him on more, and soon I was down to just the floppy shoes while Socko diligently applied his tongue to the tough business of cleaning up the mess he’d made.
A short time later, after some extremely slippery frottage, Socko added his own special frosting to the mess already drying on my bel y.
“God, I needed that.” Socko, now Chase again, sighed as he rol ed off me. His head landed in a pile of cherry fil ing.
“Always glad to help,” I answered.
Chase pul ed me toward him so that my head rested on his chest. “You’re such a sweet kid.” He stroked my hair, then, absently, started picking the larger pieces of piecrust from it. “So wil ing to play along with me. I hope you don’t think I’m, I don’t know, too weird or something.”
Of course you’re weird, I wanted to answer. You get off on having pie fights while dressed as a clown. What isn’t weird about that?
But, who cares? If it turns you on, and doesn’t hurt anyone, what’s wrong with being a little weird? Most people never do anything that’s particularly interesting. That’s why they’re unhappy and dull.
Celebrate your messy, clowny weirdness, Socko!
Let your freak flag fly!
I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though.
“I always have fun with you,” I answered honestly.
“And I think you’re hot.” I licked his nipple. Maple syrup, yum.
“I never know when I’m dating someone, when to tel them about”—he waved his hand around the now-wrecked room—“al this.”
Right after you’ve told them you’re worth a hundred million dollars, I thought.
“You’re a great guy,” I said. “But it’s not the kind of thing you’d want to bring up on a first date. Do you also get into . . .” I wasn’t sure how to put it. Normal y, I’d have said “vanil a sex,” but with Chase that had a double meaning.
“Regular lovemaking?” Chase asked. I nodded against his chest. “Oh sure,” he continued. “But this for me is so much better, you know. So much more intense. It’s not something I’d want to do every day but, but when I do, it’s like . . .” This time, he couldn’t find the words.
“The icing on the cake?” I offered.
Chase laughed and pul ed me closer. “Yeah, that’s it, little buddy. The icing on the cake. ” He kissed the top of my head. “And you’re the cherry.”
“My advice? Wait til the fifth time you’ve slept with him. When it’s clear you’re both interested and you’ve already proved you can rock his world sans props. Then tel him, ‘You know what I think would be fun to try?’ And make it sound like a fantastic adventure, not a make-or-break demand.
“If he goes for it, great. If not, ask him again three months later. If he’s interested in you, he’l get the message that it’s something you real y want to do. In the meantime, I’m always available for your sweet, sweet lovemaking.”
Chase chuckled. “You know, that’s not bad. Maybe I’l give it a try. Do you charge extra for the counseling?”
“I may take a pie with me,” I answered. “That peach cobbler is delish.”
After a quick shower in Chase’s fabulous high-tech bathroom (which, BTW, was bigger than my entire one-bedroom apartment in Chelsea), I gave him a peck on the cheek on my way out the door.
“Here, take this,” he said, pressing a wad of bil s into my hand. I knew he paid the one thousand five hundred dol ars for today’s date online with Mrs.
Cherry. This was a tip.
“Thanks,” I said.
“And thanks for the advice.” He grinned. “I promise not to wear these until at least the fifth date.” He looked down at the oversized clown shoes stil on his feet.
“Wel , I don’t know,” I answered as the doors to his private elevator whooshed open. “They could work for you. You know, some guys think shoe size is
A short time later, after some extremely slippery frottage, Socko added his own special frosting to the mess already drying on my bel y.
“God, I needed that.” Socko, now Chase again, sighed as he rol ed off me. His head landed in a pile of cherry fil ing.
“Always glad to help,” I answered.
Chase pul ed me toward him so that my head rested on his chest. “You’re such a sweet kid.” He stroked my hair, then, absently, started picking the larger pieces of piecrust from it. “So wil ing to play along with me. I hope you don’t think I’m, I don’t know, too weird or something.”
Of course you’re weird, I wanted to answer. You get off on having pie fights while dressed as a clown. What isn’t weird about that?
But, who cares? If it turns you on, and doesn’t hurt anyone, what’s wrong with being a little weird? Most people never do anything that’s particularly interesting. That’s why they’re unhappy and dull.
Celebrate your messy, clowny weirdness, Socko!
Let your freak flag fly!
I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though.
“I always have fun with you,” I answered honestly.
“And I think you’re hot.” I licked his nipple. Maple syrup, yum.
“I never know when I’m dating someone, when to tel them about”—he waved his hand around the now-wrecked room—“al this.”
Right after you’ve told them you’re worth a hundred million dollars, I thought.
“You’re a great guy,” I said. “But it’s not the kind of thing you’d want to bring up on a first date. Do you also get into . . .” I wasn’t sure how to put it. Normal y, I’d have said “vanil a sex,” but with Chase that had a double meaning.
“Regular lovemaking?” Chase asked. I nodded against his chest. “Oh sure,” he continued. “But this for me is so much better, you know. So much more intense. It’s not something I’d want to do every day but, but when I do, it’s like . . .” This time, he couldn’t find the words.
“The icing on the cake?” I offered.
Chase laughed and pul ed me closer. “Yeah, that’s it, little buddy. The icing on the cake. ” He kissed the top of my head. “And you’re the cherry.”
“My advice? Wait til the fifth time you’ve slept with him. When it’s clear you’re both interested and you’ve already proved you can rock his world sans props. Then tel him, ‘You know what I think would be fun to try?’ And make it sound like a fantastic adventure, not a make-or-break demand.
“If he goes for it, great. If not, ask him again three months later. If he’s interested in you, he’l get the message that it’s something you real y want to do. In the meantime, I’m always available for your sweet, sweet lovemaking.”
Chase chuckled. “You know, that’s not bad. Maybe I’l give it a try. Do you charge extra for the counseling?”
“I may take a pie with me,” I answered. “That peach cobbler is delish.”
After a quick shower in Chase’s fabulous high-tech bathroom (which, BTW, was bigger than my entire one-bedroom apartment in Chelsea), I gave him a peck on the cheek on my way out the door.
“Here, take this,” he said, pressing a wad of bil s into my hand. I knew he paid the one thousand five hundred dol ars for today’s date online with Mrs.
Cherry. This was a tip.
“Thanks,” I said.
“And thanks for the advice.” He grinned. “I promise not to wear these until at least the fifth date.” He looked down at the oversized clown shoes stil on his feet.
“Wel , I don’t know,” I answered as the doors to his private elevator whooshed open. “They could work for you. You know, some guys think shoe size is
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