Jack Random  is a bisexual, Pagan, poet, pornographer, and leather daddy who lives, works and spanks people in San Francisco. While he did recently spend a week in New Orleans with his married ex-boyfriend, he wants you to know that certain parts of the story are fiction and other parts aren't. He can be reached for almost any purpose at randomj@earthlink.net. And yes, Jack Random is his real name.

A Triangle in the Quarter
by Jack Random

New Orleans in the French Quarter. It was hot and humid at midnight and I was sitting across the room from my ex-boyfriend Snake and thinking two things at once. One was that I hate it when real life turns into a series of sweat dripping cliches; the other one was that even if it was a cliche I still really, really, wanted to kiss him.

We'd fallen silent after a long conversation and we were just staring at each other. It was Saturday night and from five blocks away we could hear the drunken frat boy roar of Bourbon Street. Music and that sort of compulsive hooting noise that tourists seem to make when they get drunk. Wooooo! Woo, woo! Snake and I were both pretending to listen to it, wondering which one of us was going to make the first move. The moment stretched on and on. We made eye contact, smiling, quietly comfortable with each other finally, two years after our angry breakup. We'd been talking for four days, sitting in that room or roaming from bar to bar, drinking together or with his wife, Maxie, or with the constantly rotating crew of locals that Snake seemed to know in every bar in the Quarter. I don't drink any more so mostly it'd been me explaining that to bartenders and getting free cokes while Snake and Maxie got themselves tanked. The bars never close in the Quarter, but along about dawn Maxie usually stood up, blinked a couple of times and became instantly sober, like she was throwing some little codependent switch in her head, and then the two of us picked up Snake and helped him stagger home. We'd sleep for a few hours and then get up and start all over again.

The second night I was there, after she put Snake to bed, Maxie came into the back room where I was stretched out, naked and sweating, on an old futon mattress.

"Josh?" she said my name as she slipped in, to make sure I was still awake and when she saw that I was she just stood there grinning in the gray light of dawn. Then began skinning herself out of her clothes. She came and lay next to me on the bed. She looked good, even better than I remembered. A tight, tough little dyke body with a shaved head and hairy armpits, wearing only a studded dog collar and some attitude.

"You sure about this Maxie?" I asked, turning to face her, unable to resist running my right hand down the side of her body.

"Oh hell yeah, motherfuckuh," she said, putting on the soft cadence of a Louisiana accent for effect, even though she and Snake had both grown up in San Francisco. She reached out with her small hands and began playing with the rings in my nipples, flipping them slowly up and down, tugging at them a little.

"Ah ain't been laid in a week," she said. "Snake's too drunk. Hell, its the Quartah, ev'rybodys too drunk. You're the only sober man for 3 miles in any direction."

I laughed. "What about girls?" A pained expression passed briefly over her face and she dropped the accent. "Lesbians around here don't like bi girls," she said, saying the word lesbian like it was an official title. "As soon as I mention the B word they pull a quick fade."

"And you always have to mention the B word," I said, not bothering to make it a question.

"Yeah, I do," she said, "I always do." And reached down with her left hand, taking hold of my cock, pulling it straight out toward her and rubbing the head along the soft fur of her inner thigh. I could feel myself getting hard as she did it. She looked up at me and grinned again.

"You still carry condoms?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, and turned to pick up my jacket from the floor and get them out of the inner pocket.

Maxie put her hand on my shoulder, stopping me. "Good," she said, "but we wont need them for a few minutes yet." And bent down to take my cock in her mouth.

An hour or so later we were curled around each other, her back pressed to my chest in the oven blast of morning sun that came through the curtains. I could feel my long hair sticking to me everywhere and I was watching a droplet of sweat crawl down the back of Maxie's neck from the stubble on her scalp.

"You sure Snake is okay with this?" I said, more than a little aware that if I really cared I would have asked more about it earlier. She moved her right shoulder in a minimal shrug. "He said he was. Otherwise I never would have come in here."

"He's pretty drunk..." I started, but she shook her head.

"He'll never admit that, so if it bothers him its his own fault," she said and started to get up, pausing long enough to give me a lingering kiss.

"I wasn't kidding about not getting laid in a week," she said when we finished. "Well, sort of, its actually been more like a month.

Snake's been going through a bad patch for a while and I haven't had anybody else around that I was interested in. At least, not until now," she added, and kissed me again.

I smiled. "I think you just want to have a three way again."

She grinned, rolling her eyes, playing innocent. "I sure wouldn't have any objections," she said, picking up her clothes, starting toward the door. "You know I always loved seeing you two together. Being with both of you at the same time. Besides," she said, turning back to me, a little more seriously, "you're good for him, Josh. He wants your respect so he acts better when you're around."

"Now that is perverted," I said. It was an old joke between the three of us.

Maxie grinned and shrugged again "What can I say? Just your average bi dyke with a bi boy husband. We all have to make compromises. I'm going back to work tonight. You two will have a chance to talk, maybe work things out a little." And then she slipped out of the room to go crawl into bed with Snake and sleep away the hottest part of the day.

So Snake and I talked. We walked around, orbiting the 2 blocks between The Fatted Calf and Sin City, his two favorite bars. He showed me the goth scene and how the locals pick out their marks. Party groups being worked for tips by the bartenders, small groups of men being reeled in by the hookers and the strip club barkers. We talked about science-fiction and writing, about movies, mystery novels, and the problems he was having getting his stuff published. I told him what I'd been doing in the two years since we'd last spoken.

During the day we slept or wrote separately, then went out to dinner when the sun went down. I have an image in my mind of the two of us, walking shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk in the irregular light of Saint Peter Street, talking a mile a minute, keeping one eye out for muggers. We were laughing again, just like when we had first been together, and I remembered all the things he and I had in common. All the things I'd loved. Sometimes, under the yellow glow of a street lamp, we'd turn toward each other a little and make the briefest kind of eye contact.

We didn't talk about our feelings or bother to rehash the details of the breakup. I didn't tell him that he was an alcoholic and he didn't tell me that I was sexually compulsive. We settled things the way men seem to. Sidelong and oblique, risking very little. We let the past lie and rebuilt our feelings from the starting point, each of us settling our own issues as we went.

I remembered his passion and his irony. The slow, fluid way he moved and the deep darkness in his brown eyes. Gradually we started touching more. A hand brush or a shoulder bump in public, resting our hands on each other’s thighs under the bar and exchanging secret smiles. Reentering the conspiracy.

After four days we fell silent. It wasn't the first time. We'd been getting quieter more often as we ran out of things that we felt like talking about. Less and less to say about other things, and nothing we really wanted to say about us. Just this silence and the smile he was giving me. It was time now to be back together. I wasn't angry anymore and I trusted him again. Or rather I had a better idea about trusting him then I'd had before.

We were both sitting in our underwear in his living room, both of us sweating under the lazy swirl of the ceiling fan, the air in the room forming what felt like a solid plastic block of heat. He hadn't been drinking at all that night and I guess we both knew it was killing him. He'd stayed sober for me and we both knew that too.

I stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of his chair. He looked up at me for a second and then gave a little shrug and a grin before turning to stub out his cigarette. When he'd done it he reached both hands up to me, like a child. I took his hands and got down on my knees while he leaned forward and drew my face toward his.

We kissed and I felt the unshaven stubble of his beard framing the same impossibly soft full lips that I remembered so well. We kept holding hands and our fingers intertwined as our lips parted and our tongues seemed to find each other. The kiss went on and on, and I felt every good thing about him running through me like water. Running and stumbling over a couple of stones here and there, but running, fast. Snake broke the kiss and stood up.

"Come on," he said, and led me to the bedroom where he and Maxie slept. Our bodies were slick from the heat as we lay down together and started to kiss again. With hungry hands I reexplored the sharp definition of his lean, muscular chest. I bent down and ground the flat of my tongue on his left nipple, making rough little circles, tasting salty sweat and the sweetness of skin underneath. Snake made a growling noise in the back of his throat and then pushed me over, flat on my back. He grabbed the bigger bulk of my pecs and began working them just like tits. Squeezing them in his hands and pinching the nipples as he climbed up and lay directly on top of me. We started grinding our crotches together, feeling each other get hard through the thin white cotton of our underwear.

It was hot in the room, too hot to be this close to another human body. I didn't care. As he started licking my nipples I ran my hand down the long plane of his back and then reached into his underwear to cup his ass. His hard muscles twisted and rolled as he pumped his hips into me and I pushed right back, loving the sensation of his mouth on my chest. After a minute or so he reached down and pulled the waistband of my briefs down, wrapping his warm dry hand around the shaft of my cock and pulling it out. He started to stroke me, his left hand wrapping around my balls and pulling at them, his callused right thumb working the head of my cock. God it was good. The pressure of his hands and the hard, moving muscles of his ass. Just like I'd remembered. We'd always fit together seamlessly, each of us already knowing what the other one liked and how to do it.

He bent to suck me, his mouth sloppy and hot, using his teeth too much as he pulled the entire length in and then down the back of his throat. He held his head still and began sort of fucking me with his throat, swallowing over and over with my cock head being worked from what felt like a hundred different angles. Sensations shot through me like lightning and after only a minute or two I had to reach out and push him away or I was going to shoot off right then.

We pulled away from each other and stripped off our underwear before coming back together again. This time it was me that bent forward and caught him in my mouth. He lay flat on the bed and closed his eyes as I crouched on all fours above him, sucking the narrow head of his cock while I jerked the thick shaft with my hand. I remembered how much I loved the shape of him. It made me want him inside me again. I wanted him to fuck me and I remembered how it felt as I sucked him and jerked myself off at the same time.

After a while the fantasy became too intense to resist. I pulled away from him. I almost couldn't say it out loud, didn't want to break whatever spell had us back in bed together after so long.

I did say it though, quietly, finally risking something to breach that last barrier between us. "Fuck me," I whispered. "I want to feel you in me again."

Snake nodded and began fumbling for condoms beside the bed. He didn't say anything, just breathing hard, and I lay back and stroked myself as he rolled the condom on, working carefully to get it over the hard girth of the shaft and then sliding it all the way down to the base.

He moved toward me and I put my legs up onto his shoulders. He took hold of his own cock and guided the head to my asshole. I could feel it there, probing me. He pushed a little and I started jerking my own cock harder, willing myself to relax and open up to him. He pulled back a little and spit into the palm of his hand, using it to lube the head and then pushed into me again.

I could feel myself opening. I closed my eyes and bent my knees further back toward my chest, surrendering completely to the sensation as the head began to penetrate the hard ring of muscle there. Slowly, just the way he knew I liked it, he began thrusting. Each thrust moved that huge cock shaft further up inside me.

My hand was flying on my own stiff prick by the time he had himself all the way in. He began really fucking me then. Starting slow but doing it harder and harder until he was grunting and jamming into me forcefully.

I kept pulling my legs further back and apart, wanting every bit of him that I could get, feeling like I was being ripped apart and loving it that way. Nothing mattered to me then but the sensation. Not the time or the anger, not everything I'd wanted from him and couldn't get, not the things we hadn't said. I didn't care anymore about Maxie and what she wanted or even if I still loved him. I just wanted the bright and brilliant pain of his cock in my ass, the boiling cum in my balls as I jerked off, and the feel of him as he worked on top of me. He was leaning forward, supporting his weight on his hands so I could reach my cock, but he was still thrusting in his own rhythm, moving toward his own orgasm.

I could feel it, building inside me, getting closer. I snapped my eyes open and realized that I was shouting with the pleasure of it all. I thought about the open windows and then just didn't care. I was beyond caring about anything. When I opened my eyes Snake and I looked at each other, full in the face and for more than a moment.

His eyes were blazing as his hips pumped. He looked angry and terrified all at the same time and I knew he was right there with me. This meant as much to him as it did to me, or I imagined that it did. I hoped that it did. I wanted him inside me again, not just his cock but him, the him that I had loved. Everything that we had had before, and whatever it was that we had now.

"Yes!" I shouted, feeling it start, that old familiar sensation that was never quite what I remembered. "Yes! Oh, God yes, fuck me!" I screamed as waves of sensation overflowed every nerve in my body. I felt hot sticky liquid splash over my stomach and chest.

Snake didn't stop after I came. His eyes shut and he began thrusting even harder than before, changing the angle for his own maximum sensation. It was too much. I couldn't stand the intensity of it. My own cock was shrinking and I let it go, grabbing his shoulders and digging my fingers in as he began grunting again. He was so hard and I began to hate the feeling but wanted it, wanted to feel him come. No matter what it felt like or what it would do to me I wanted to feel his thick bullet shaped prick jerking his load into my ass.

"Yes," I was still whispering. "Yes, fuck me."

I felt his entire body go stiff and he leaned back from me. The hard cock in my ass went ridged and began to pulse and jerk, pouring out cum.

Now he was done and he fell down on top of me, burying his face against my neck. We began to relax together, muscles unclenching. His cock, softening, began to slip out of me.

"You're the only man I ever loved." I said, neither knowing nor caring why I was saying it, just wanting to.

I felt him turn his head to the left, slightly more toward me, and his hand came up and touched my face as he kissed the side of my throat. "Yeah," he said, "Me too."

About 2:30 that morning we heard Maxie come in from work. She did some things in the livingroom and then came back to the bedroom calling softly to see if Snake and I were home. We just lay there, still in each other’s arms and waited for her to come in. When the bedroom door opened Maxie stood quietly for a moment and then her mouth split into a wide grin.

"Well, ho-ly shit," she said happily. "And just what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"Nothing." I said, shrugging.

"There isn't a damn thing to say," said Snake. "Not now anyway."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Maxie, and then she laughed and began to unbutton her shirt.

Copyright © 2000 Jack Random. All rights reserved.