A Helping Hand_(4)

It was for the first time a really cold night after a long summer and
a mild fall. The group of punks, carrying beer cans, had fled from the
rain down to the dingy lower levels of the central station. A guard was
watching them distrustfully. They had a brief argument whether to go for
a less supervised station or to cadge some money first. In the end, one
of them departed and the rest headed for the subway. He was 6′ tall,
thin, and wore a long black leather coat with dangling silver chains,
a battered black jeans, and a dirty T-Shirt. His Mohawk haircut had
suffered from the rain but his appearance was still fierce. Unlike
his friends he had no piercing-s and his boyish face made him look much
younger than his 18 years.

Most passers-by were long-time commuters and knew all tricks to avoid
beggars. Danny’s frustration grew. He approached a tired looking
clerk or office worker who was heading for the exit. ‘Can you spare
some change?’, Danny asked. The man walked past him and pretended not
to have noticed the outstretched hand. Danny yelled: ‘I am talking
to you, mister. Fuck you!’. People looked around what was going on,
but did not stop for a closer look. A couple came along. She was in
her mid-twenties and supported her overweight husband who was heavily
drunk. The punk walked over and said his usual line. To his surprise,
the woman stopped and reached for her purse and gave him a Euro. Her
husband mumbled something and suddenly lost his balance. Danny grabbed
him and helped him up. After a few steps he stumbled again and almost
dragged his wife along. The punk offered his help and the woman nodded
relieved.

The tramway station was not far, but it took them some time to pull
the drunkard all the way. When the train arrived, he threw up and
hit Danny’s T-Shirt and trousers. ‘I’ll wash it if you come with us’,
offered the woman hastily, with an embarrassed expression. At least they
didn’t have to stand in the crowded wagon. The stench scared most other
passengers away. After a long and unpleasant ride, they arrived at their
destination. The way to the couple’s apartment was a tedious business.
Every now and then, the man leaned over to vomit. Finally, they had
pushed him up those three stairs, into the apartment and into the small
bathroom. He was placed on a stool and his wife stripped him down to his
underwear.

After that, they jockeyed him into the bedroom. With a sigh of relief,
the women closed the door from the outside when a second door was opened
and a gawky teenager with thick, curled hair appeared. ‘Pia, where have
you been and who’s that?’, he inquired and pointed at Danny. ‘This is —
what was your name?’, she asked. ‘Call me Danny’, said Danny. ‘Danny’s
helped to bring him home. He didn’t feel well again.’, she explained.
‘You mean, he’s drunk as usual’, the boy said. ‘Don’t talk like that about
my husband, he’s a good man!’, she exclaimed. ‘Danny, this is Martin,
the son of my husband’s brother. His parents had a nasty divorce, and
he stays with us while his father is, uhm, out of town.’

‘You can have shower and give me your clothes. I’ll wash them right now.’,
said Pia. The punk nodded and went back to the bathroom. Even without
all that throw-off, his clothes needed a wash very badly. He dropped
them on a heap and put a towel around his waist. ‘Be careful, there’s
stuff dropping off’, he warned the woman when he handed her the bunch. He
returned to the bathroom and shut the door.

Curiously, he peered into the mirrored cabinet. As he had hoped,
there were some pills in there. Among other things, his fondness for
vividly colored pills was one of the reasons why he lived on the street.
To some people in the parks, you could sell any pills. He swallowed one
of them and hid the rest in his boots. After that, he removed the towel
and turned on the shower. The warm water made him relax while waited for
the pill to kick in. Nothing happened. Who knows what kind of pill this
had been. Perhaps he would not get pregnant now.

After about half an hour he turned the water off and reached for the
towel. Unexpectedly, his cock sprang to life when he started rubbing
his body with the towel. It grew harder as usual, though he didn’t
even think of Cindy and their last encounter behind a bush in the
city hall’s park. Someone was knocking at the door: ‘Hurry up, it’s
urgent!’. Danny wound a towel around his waist and tried to conceal his
enormous boner. He opened and Martin ran past him. Danny waited in the
corridor and tried to think of boring things, without success. His cock
seemed still to grow. Martin reappeared and Pia shouted from the kitchen:
‘Martin, lend Danny some of your clothes.’

Martin’s room was small, cramped, and the cupboard did not offer a
grand selection. ‘You’re a gay hustler, aren’t you?’, asked Martin
innocently. ‘Only when nothing else works.’, answered Danny cooly.

‘Does it hurt when they thrust you in the arse?’, Martin asked.

‘Just give me that trouser, will you?’, said Danny.

‘Do you have to swallow their jizz?’

‘Some want it, but it’s too dangerous. Can I take that shirt?’

‘Do you have to ejaculate at them?’

‘Are you gay or what’s the matter with you?’, Danny asked angrily.

The boy blushed but replied: ‘No, I’m not!’. Danny dropped his towel
and exposed his boner, which was still hard as a rock. He took the
trouser which Martin was holding and put it on. A big bulge was still
visible. Martin looked dreamily at Danny’s crotch. ‘The trousers are a
bit short, but it’s OK.’, Danny commented while he was looking at the
mirror in the cupboard’s door. He tried the shirt, but the short sleeves
looked ridiculous, so he put it off. Pia entered the room and asked if
Danny would like something to eat. He followed her into a small living
room. She had made some sandwiches which he gorged in no time. ‘You can
stay here tonight, if you like. But you have to leave before my husband
wakes up. He might get a wrong impression and he is very passionate, you
know.’, she explained. ‘Our washing machine broke down last week. I’ll
fetch the stuff to the all-night laundry next door.’ She took a laundry
bag and left.

Martin joined Danny on the couch and turned the TV on. ‘You have a girl
friend?’, asked Danny. ‘No, not yet.’, Martin replied. ‘So you can jerk me
off now.’, said Danny and grabbed his own cock through the cloth. Martin
blushed. ‘I’ve told you, I am not gay!’, he said. ‘Of course not. Do you
like to see my dick?’, asked Danny and removed his trousers. His cock
was raging hard. Martin looked at it and breathed heavily. ‘Some guys
don’t show their’s, they’re afraid it would be too small.’, remarked
Danny and watched the boy closely. Martin touched his own belt buckle,
but hesitated. ‘Yours must be very small.’, Danny sneered, ‘unlike this
piece of hard meat’, he said and stroke his dick gently. Martin’s eyes
widened. He did not move.

‘Let’s have a look, then.’, said Danny and opened Martin’s belt
and zippers.