18...
The man was dirty. And I mean not your standard out rolling around on the ground dirty, not even your typical homeless guy dirty, this guy was his own freaking element.
“Hey man! Nice place,” he said with a voice that sounded like it came through cracking gravel. “Yeah, yeah, niiiice place.”
He smiled with gums that were brown and cracking. The lines of his skin were caked in grime like some experimental art project. Hair that resembled the pelt of a long dead animal stuck up in mangy forts of resistance against gravity. His clothes were almost comically dirty if it wasn’t so sad; so oiled and stained that it was impossible to tell the original color without the aid of machines.
Frank watched with wild, disbelieving eyes as this man stood in the doorway and examined the walls of the living room. He pointed at a framed picture of Bryan and his sister with a fingernail that was a color not usually seen in daylight, and tittered.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Frank bellowed.
The man turned to look at him as if noticing him for the first time.
“Don’t play games with me, man.”
“Seriously!” Frank yelled, hoping to attract a little attention from elsewhere in the building. “Get the fuck out of here!”
The man moved a little closer with a shambling, sliding step. Frank was physically hit by the smell coming off of the guy; an acrid reek of urine and human musk left to bake in sweat and alcohol. He gagged and slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, a dull pain exploded from his lip.
“Are you scared?” the man asked.
Frank quickly searched the kitchen table for some sort of weapon to grab onto. He frantically wrapped his fingers around a glass ashtray that Bryan had stolen from a Hotel 12 during one of his film shoots.
“You’re scared, huh? Your little balls done crawled up into your body and your prick is almost hard.” The man said with a seriousness that seemed to have some sort of physicality.
Frank looked down at himself in bewilderment. The white flash shock of realizing he was naked was overtaken by the understanding that he was almost half mast, adrenaline playing havoc with his cock. He lifted high the ashtray in one hand and covered his protruding package with the other.
“I’m not gonna tell you again pig fucker! Get out of my house!”
“Don’t you know me?” the man asked with a smile.
Frank looked deeply and purposefully into this wreck’s eyes and saw nothing but a dancing and mirthful danger.
“Hey man! Nice place,” he said with a voice that sounded like it came through cracking gravel. “Yeah, yeah, niiiice place.”
He smiled with gums that were brown and cracking. The lines of his skin were caked in grime like some experimental art project. Hair that resembled the pelt of a long dead animal stuck up in mangy forts of resistance against gravity. His clothes were almost comically dirty if it wasn’t so sad; so oiled and stained that it was impossible to tell the original color without the aid of machines.
Frank watched with wild, disbelieving eyes as this man stood in the doorway and examined the walls of the living room. He pointed at a framed picture of Bryan and his sister with a fingernail that was a color not usually seen in daylight, and tittered.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Frank bellowed.
The man turned to look at him as if noticing him for the first time.
“Don’t play games with me, man.”
“Seriously!” Frank yelled, hoping to attract a little attention from elsewhere in the building. “Get the fuck out of here!”
The man moved a little closer with a shambling, sliding step. Frank was physically hit by the smell coming off of the guy; an acrid reek of urine and human musk left to bake in sweat and alcohol. He gagged and slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, a dull pain exploded from his lip.
“Are you scared?” the man asked.
Frank quickly searched the kitchen table for some sort of weapon to grab onto. He frantically wrapped his fingers around a glass ashtray that Bryan had stolen from a Hotel 12 during one of his film shoots.
“You’re scared, huh? Your little balls done crawled up into your body and your prick is almost hard.” The man said with a seriousness that seemed to have some sort of physicality.
Frank looked down at himself in bewilderment. The white flash shock of realizing he was naked was overtaken by the understanding that he was almost half mast, adrenaline playing havoc with his cock. He lifted high the ashtray in one hand and covered his protruding package with the other.
“I’m not gonna tell you again pig fucker! Get out of my house!”
“Don’t you know me?” the man asked with a smile.
Frank looked deeply and purposefully into this wreck’s eyes and saw nothing but a dancing and mirthful danger.
posted by P. B. Nomer | 4:25 PM
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