Out Caroling by Anel Viz

Out Caroling

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He lay there in agony, doubled over and clutching his crotch. He thought he would vomit. The guy who had kneed him walked jauntily away down the alley, singing to himself: “Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la.” How could he have misjudged him so completely? So much for fucking gay-dar!

The guy’s clothes alone had virtually screamed “Gay!” Virtually? At the top of their lungs was more like it. Who else would wear black leather pants so tight they showed not just a bulge, but a detailed outline? Who else wore an earring in his right ear? And eye shadow? Not to mention the hankies in his back pockets, green in the left and red in the right, a hustler looking to be fist-fucked for Christmas. He’d never tried anything like that before, but the guy had such a yummy butt, and what the hell? – it was Christmas. It was enough to turn a fellow off kink and onto vanilla for life.

And he thought he’d used such a cool line to come on to him, too! “Hi there, handsome. Wanna come over to my place and help me deck the halls? There’s a C-note in it for you.”

“What the fuck do you take me for, faggot? I’ll deck your balls, that’s what I’ll deck!”

And he had, hard and swift, after he punched him in the mouth so his head rang ting-a-ling. Christmastime in the city – yeesh!

Was it a set-up? Was the guy out prowling for gays? He was, but not to get them to hit on him so he could beat on them.

He’d been taken in like that once before, when he was much younger, also on Christmas Eve, that time by an undercover cop. Christmas in the clink. Santa must have checked his list and found out he’d been naughty.

He’d been very naughty, both times. Seasonably jolly. So what? If he’d been an angel all year, Santa still wouldn’t have brought him the present he wished for, a beautiful naked man wrapped in holiday paper he could rip off. Hot sex under the tree in front of the blazing Yule log – tra-la-la-la-la – and a cock like a donkey’s for merry measure!

Dear Santa,

This Christmas I would like to get one drop-dead gorgeous, uninhibited, well-hung, ripped stud. Cut or uncut, I’m not particular. I’m not asking for two; I’d be more than happy with one. Oh yes – and nice, tight bubble butt too. A dancer would be ideal. (I don’t mean one of your reindeer.) I’d even settle for a couple of your elves. Or my two front teeth that shithead knocked out. Any of the above will do, otherwise you can forget about coming down my chimney.

He pushed his tongue forward in his mouth. The punch had only loosened the teeth. He’d have to be careful for a while not to bite into something hard, but his favorite hard thing to put in his mouth didn’t require chomping down on.

Distracted from his miseries by this newer train of thought, he turned his thoughts to times his cruising had produced more successful results and relived the wonder of their lovemaking in graphic detail. As for the religious significance of the holiday, well, fuck that shit!

For a long time he lay in sin and error... till he appeared.

“What’s the matter, mister? Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

Do you hear what I hear? A child... a child? No child – a very young and very concerned merry gentleman with the fall-on-your-knees, come-let-us-adore-him body of a porn star with royal beauty bright. Gloria in excelsis deo!

“What are you doing lying out here in the street on a cold winter’s night? There’s no place like home for the holidays.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas?”

“You can count on me.”

Tidings of comfort and joy! It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. They went home together, climbed into the sack, made some rum-a-tum-tum (oh, what fun it is to ride!), and came upon a midnight clear.

Posted: 12/19/08