Roué

Chapter 5 - Throw you against the Wal...Mart (Uh!)

Chapter 5 – Throw you against the Wal…Mart (Uh!)

Chapter Song – Rock DJ - Robbie Williams

The fluorescents beamed over his head. He was bathed in light. And as the camera approached to focus its lens on one Matthew Holston, we couldn’t help but tingle in places we knew only Matty Boi could tickle. His hip-thrusting movements were a showcase of oscillations replicated from a video he had unearthed from YouTube. His moves matched that of Robbie Williams’ choreography in Rock DJ. And then we had to wonder ‘when will Matty Boi learn to keep his pants on while at home?’ Well folks, I didn’t know the answer to that either. So, let’s just sit back, try our best to gird our loins, and observe as one Matty Boi gyrates like a horny helicopter.

And so he danced, with the ‘oohs’ ‘aahs’ ‘ohs’ and ‘uhs’ we had gotten used to for several chapters now. Even I, the narrator, didn’t expect this horny bastard to get the reads he’d been getting here on w*****d. I mean, just look at him, popping his hips side to side like a horny coot while cussing in foul language that would make Martha Stewart blush.

Though I must say, I too had been captivated by all the wiggling he’d been doing with his hips. He’s uncoordinated, yet a smexy salsa dancer nonetheless. Now he’s dipping his burrito in salsa and mayo, yet still here we were. Ogling. Waiting. Wanting to know what he’ll be on about next. Oh boy. He saw us. He noticed our intrusion of his breakfast. f**k me.

“Hey guys, watcha doin’? Want to take a bite of my meat-filled burrito?” And so he asked that question to which we all responded to with the nod of our heads. The one between our shoulders, not the one between our legs … girls are exempted, unless you guys have an invisible weenies, then that works too I guess. “You don’t want a bite? Um, here, here’s a Polaroid of my dick.”

(We all rush to a stampede) “You bitches ain’t gon’ get mah Polaroid,” wiggled Honey Boo Boo.

“What the fudge is this!? Hands off the merchandise you pervies!” was how Matty Boi complained after provoking us ever so effectively with his signature Polaroid shots. Oh God.

“Seriously you guys. The testosterone, estrogen, and homosones – yeah, homosones, I made that up. Anyways, its suffocationing me man. It’s like—” We then interrupted to remind him that ‘suffocationing’ wasn’t a word in the dictionary, “Whatever. Anyway, yeah … I feel suffocated. Anywhore, that video Collin made me do a couple days ago … Dammit. Fudge. I really thought my dingus was gonna fall off, you know? I mean…” And as Matty Boi explained how offended he was for participating in a Miami Edged video, where they outright abused his baloney pony, we couldn’t help but wonder ‘Is this book even making sense?’ EL-OH-EL! Seriously though, there were flashbacks from past chapters, and more in the upcoming ones. So pay close attention. If you still couldn’t piece the Science together, everything would be explained in the last chapter.

“Hey, you guys listening to me? It’s that narrator isn’t it? He’s zoning me out or somethin’. Anyways, I need to quickie up to Wal-Mart® for I’m out of foods yo. Care to join me?” And so was Matty Boi’s invitation to us, which of course we didn’t have a choice but to oblige to. Seriously, I couldn’t believe how one character like Matty Boi managed to control the direction of this story when I badly wanted it to become a RomCom. Well, judging from the number of reads so far, I guess it ain’t all that bad considering— “Shut up narrator! Let’s go you guys.”

I dialed Central Cab®, they sent Ponce. Again, lemme advertise my shiz with Central Cab®. Just like last time in chapter two. You have gotsta trust me on this. If you need a quick cab in Miami, just dial Central Cab® (305) 532-5555. I mean, they’ve been serving these fudging beaches since 1950. And that’s their frigging phone number right there. Just call ‘em if you were anywhere here in Miami. But don’t come knocking at my door without telling me foh shiz.

And as Matty Boi yet again complained about nonsense, we made for a question with our heads tilted to the side, “Why Matt? Are we a bother to you?” We asked like horny little tramps, to which he answered by saying, “No. It’s not that. It’s just … you guys can’t expect my giggle stick to tickle all y’all. I mean, it’s just one. Unless a fairy whips up a wand to make it more—”

‘Fftiinng!’ went the sound of a wand, which made Matty Boi’s single cockatoo turn into a nest of d***s. Kind of like that of Medusa’s head. Oh boy, aren’t we in for a treat, “What the fudge!? Wave that again! I can’t have my cockatoo look like Medusa’s head! You buncha pervs! Ugh!”

And like the darlin’ that we were, we had fairy godmother wave her wand again. Now Matty Boi was back to normal, petting his one-eyed trouser snake and whatnot. Okay, we totally ignored the story and birthed a ridiculous scene. Now, onwards with this preposterous and utterly ridonculous narrative, “It’s late, Matt. Where we goin’?” asked Ponce while Matty Boi bobbed his head ever so rapaciously to Robbie Williams’ Rock DJ. That video was a classic. Let me tell ya somethin’ … or better yet just watch the damned video if you’re online. You’d notice how inspirational the video was to one of Lady Gaga’s iconic fashion statements – raw meat couture.

And as we enjoyed Robbie Williams’ contribution to gravitational Science, Matty Boi had already made it to Wal-Mart®. Now, the real story begins. Seriously, you’re still reading this? Heh, I think chapter four motivated you huh? I couldn’t blame ya. Matty Boi is really smexy.

I pushed against her damp confines. She was really slick and tight, yet I managed to enter and fill her completely. It was a snug fit. Her walls deceived me into thinking that she’d be loose, but I guess I was wrong. Oh God, my body did its best to maneuver in a way that wouldn’t chafe me. I didn’t wanna hurt her either. Oh God no. I respected her too much. I slowly opened her up with my hands. Her mounds were heavenly. I stretched … the doors of Wal-Mart®. Gotcha! Perv!

I squeezed my way inside her abandoned confines. She smelled of promiscuity and virginity. I wanted to taste her every corner. Lap at her every fold. Lick her entirety. Bury myself in her as I allow her to pace at her most comfortable. She impaled herself in my presence, permeating every muscle and nerve in my body. I was rousing as I explored her, ravaged her, and made her mine.

(Readers clenching their overheated loins in frustration) There you go again Matty Boi! Aargh!

Wot!? Can’t a guy have some fun? I’m distracting myself coz it’s so quiet in here. It’s like watching an episode from the Walking Dead. I mean, I love zombies and shiz, but I don’t want them sucking on my dingus, unless the zombie got some titties, then maybe. Um. Ugh. Gross.

And so I craned my neck from left to right. The place was dimly lit with emergency lighting. It was eerie. Lemme tell you somethin’, there’s something voyeuristic about being in the presence of complete absence. It’s like— “Silence?” we interrupted Matty Boi’s train of thoughts, to which he answered with, “Yeah, exactly, that! Silence … all the way … silence … hmm …”

And as we stood –or sat, depending on how you’re reading this crap– in companionable silence with Matty Boi, we couldn’t help but cop a feel of his baloney-ness, “What the f—!? Stop touching me! You can’t keep doing that to me! I mean, I’m not just a slab’a meat yo! Damn, I mean, I’m hot I know … but boundaries, man. Boun ... Dairies! Ooh dairy products. Yummers!”

Just like a child in Disneyland, Matty Boi plopped his hands over the glass compartment that housed cubes’a buttah, blocks’a cheese, and bottles’a milk. As we watched him salivate against the see-through door of the refrigerator, we couldn’t help but think nasty thoughts. Imagine him drenched in a pool of buttermilk, while his fingers make concentric circles around his n*****s, enticing us to join him and make sweet buttery love in a Jacuzzi of mouth-watering buttah.

“Hey, hey, hey … What you guys thinkin’ about? It’s that writer huh? He’s making you think nasty thoughts about me. I swear, if I find out where his cave is. I’ma pummel him with my pile driver till he bleeds to oblivion for f***s sake … Oh my Gawd! Popcorn, I like this one too.”

And so we were left once again with our imagination. Now, picture him in a Jacuzzi filled with nothing but popcorn … He’d tease you with his twin golden kernels, pinching and squeezing them between his fingers. He would ask you to open your mouth so he could feed you each pop while his other hand roves over your n*****s … groping them, making you want him more.

It was past 10PM, and this Wal-Mart® branch just closed. Basically, Matty Boi broke in to do his nighttime grocery which didn’t make sense had you thought about it. And with a— “Shut up narrator! Guys, I heard something. You can fantasize about me later. Just hush for a minute. There’s movement. I ain’t alone in this Wal-Mart®.” Indeed he wasn’t as he heard footsteps gather along the aisle where the pogo sticks were. Now, don’t ask me why Wal-Mart® sold pogo sticks. I’m as clueless as all y’all. Some of the products at Wal-Mart® don’t make sense at all.

‘Bump!’ came the sound of something/someone that/who might have nubbed its/his/her thing/foot on something/someone. I dunno, just choose your pronoun. Only the occasional light from passing cars outside the establishment seemed to shed light in Matty Boi’s dark situation. He crept past the Cocoa Puffs, Cheetos, Oreos, and Pringles … munching his way as he went. Suddenly it got quieter. The only sounds heard were the crunch and munch inside his pie-hole.

‘Bump!’ came the sound again, much stronger this time. Matty Boi’s heart skipped a beat as he scoured for food items and the location of the sound. He gulped like a guppy as he inched closer to the activity. The thumping could be two things – One, it’d be a rat. Two, it could be a mouse.

“Okay, hold up narrator. I know I ain’t smart. But aren’t those practically the same? The rat’s just dirtier than the other, and more disgusting,” was how Matty Boi counterpointed my statement. Well, yes, he was right. Whatever. I was just trying to be funny, even if I wasn’t.

And as Matty Boi reached the place where the buzzing emanated, a small voice made to speak, “Hey, why are you here?” asked a cute little Asian boy, who didn’t look a day over nineteen. It appeared that Matty Boi didn’t like me narrating anymore. I’ma shut up now and leave him be.

“Hey man. I’m sorry. I was just getting me some supplies.”

“You’re not supposed to be here. We closed minutes ago.”

“Um, did I do something to offend you?”

“Are you stupid? We’re locked in here!”

“Chill little dude. Wait here…” I walked towards the exit, “See, it’s…” the doors were locked, “Wait a darn second. I … these were open just a moment ago,” I tried to loosen the set of locks and the knob but to no avail, “Um, I guess I’m stuck here then,” I made for an apologetic smile.

The cute Asian Wal-Mart® clerk offered, “We can spend the night here. This isn’t my first time sleeping here. It’d happened to me before. Some of the guys I work with lock me up all the time. It’s how they define fun on a Friday night,” There was sadness in how he told his story. But what made my heart melt was what he said next, “Probably because they knew I was gay. I’m bullied a lot you know,” His head was down as he murmured those words. Aw, poor little dude. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He had those cute puppy-dog eyes that popped from his cute little Asian face. He’s got a petite body too. He was like a gay Elijah Wood with a small wood.

I knew I had to say something, “Hey man. I’m really sorry to hear that. If you want, in exchange for allowing me to spend the night, I’ma go and punch in their loser faces for you tomorrow. Yeah? But for now, just loosen up. I mean, look around you. This is like a fantasy you know? To be stranded in a place surrounded with food,” I gestured with a bottle of milk in hand. It spilt.

“Oh f**k. I’m sorry. I spilled milk all over the floor. Where do you keep the mops around here?” I pulled at my shirt and tried to rub the stickiness off my hand. I wasn’t sure if I indeed saw it, but I could’ve sworn his lower lip stuck out as I fumbled with myself, “Um. You okay there?”

“I’m a— yeah. I’m okay. The mop, yes. I’ll go and get it from the storage room,” He was nervous as hell. I made to break the iceberg before the Titanic crashed, “Call me Matt,” I offered my hand, which was somewhat sticky and sweet because of the milk I accidentally spilled.

“Harold,” he blushed when he said his name. It was the cutest thing I ever saw in my life.

Given my inability to remain tactful, I made for a joke, “Oh, Harold. Nice. Um, where’s Kumar? Did he go to White Castle? Heh,” I laughed and it was already too late to realize how stupid a joke it was when he started to look several shades degraded and uncomfortable, “Hey Harold. I’m sorry. It was just a joke. I didn’t mean to offend you. Um, you okay there little buddy?”

“Yes Matt. I’m just … your shirt is wet,” were the coy words he spoke in a bathed whisper.

I looked down, “Aw, s**t. I didn’t notice. Thanks man,” I tried to take my shirt off, but it shrunk to the size of a condom around my body. The milk was so slick that it almost felt like lubricant.

There was struggle as I wriggled out of the shirt. The neckline fought with my nose as I tried to yank it over my head, “Arrgh! f**k! Can you help, please?” I seethed against the fabric that was choking me. And as I felt his little hands graze the contour of my sculpted abdomen, I heard him Gulp, “Um, Harold, did you just Gulp?”

“No. Not me. That was 7-Eleven®.”

“Ha-ha! You funny for an Asian.”

His hands felt my abs, “Harold?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gay, right?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothing, just, help me out man.”

“Okay.”

I struggled for balance so I knelt. It was too late to realize that I made a wrong move. I found my knees stooped over the puddle of milk on the floor. Oh f**k me. My jeans got drenched. The fabrication soaked the liquid, meshing and messing the fiber of the denim, “Aw s**t. f**k me.”

I was practically naked in the presence of the cutest Asian twink I had seen in my life. And as I marveled at how beautiful his rosy pink complexion was, I couldn’t help but wonder what his skin tasted like. The attraction I had for him felt like tendrils that tickled my groin. I felt my balls tighten and squeeze as I shivered like a dog. I hope he didn’t notice how turned on I was just by looking at him. If my n*****s that were as hard as pebbles were any indication, I really felt libidinous for the kid, “Harold, where is the control room? Could you lower the temperature of the air-conditioning, please?” I needed for the place to be colder because the closer he was to me, the hornier I got. I needed the feeling of a cold bucket of water to douse my overly-fertile libido.

“You’re heating up. Give me two minutes, okay? The control room is in the back,” he gestured.

“Let me help you,” I knew there was no need for me to offer, but I did. What was I doing? I needed space away from him, not close to him. He said there was no need, and yet I insisted.

We walked the aisles with me tailing him from behind. He had the nicest piece of ass I had ever seen in a lad. It was a cute little bubble butt that took my breath away. It all became rather awkward when we passed the women’s aisle where all the napkins were. What shocked me was what I saw on display in one of the shelves, “You guys sell vibrators here?” I asked with both eyes popping out of my head. I didn’t stop walking as I asked the question, so I bumped into him. He bucked a bit forward so I had to grab his arm to keep him from keeling over. He ended up slipping into my arms. I held his dainty wrists and couldn’t help what I did next. I sniffed them, “Harold,” I whispered his name as I felt this overwhelming urge to kiss his full pink lips.

He jolted away from me, and I felt gravitation towards him that I couldn’t explain, “Harold…?”

“I’m sorry,” He looked embarrassed as if he did something wrong, when clearly I was to blame. At that point, I didn’t care if I had a heart attack for not acting on my amorous intent. I felt like I wanted to respect him. I didn’t understand why, but there was something about him that I knew I didn’t have the right to disrespect. He felt special to me for some reason. I felt something I never felt before, “We have beds out back should you feel like closing your eyes—” That was it. The minute he spun to say those words, I knew I had to kiss him. And so I meshed our lips together in the most passionate manner. I scooped him up in my arms as his mouth mewled against mine.

I lingered as Harold broke from my kiss, and then he made for a confession I wasn’t expecting, “Matt. I know you. You’re from the Miami Edged video that’s been getting a lot of hits. You were in that episode Man on Edge, right?” His words felt like a cold bucket of water over my raging libido. I shied away from him, embarrassed for being recognized as a hoe. They blindfolded me in the clip, but I guess it wasn’t enough. Damn, to think I was starting to like this boy, then he had to have this perception of me that I was nothing but a dirty manhoe. But then, just as fast as the cold hand of admittance shrank my girth, he made to pull me back into him with the warmest of thoughts, “I know that many a thousand might have gotten off using your video, and have shared countless moans with you in the privacy of their bedrooms, but can you … can you exclusively be that man for me tonight and make this little boy’s dream come true.”

My heart swelled with joy, and a feeling that I couldn’t put my finger on, “Yes Harold, I will.”

I carried him to bed and undressed him in the most reverential manner. He was a sight to behold as he sat on top of my naked body. His face tensed up the moment I entered him with my lubricated organ. He was breathing hard as I pushed his shoulders down to impale him deeper, “Harold, are you a virgin?” I asked as my heart thundered inside my chest. His body against mine was the softest I felt in years. His anal muscles were the tightest I felt in my many years of being a Roué, “You are surprisingly tight. Oh God,” I sat up to meet his face and kissed him.

He pulled back gasping, “Yes, you’re my first … And please be gentle. It really hurts,” Had he not told me it did I wouldn’t know. He was very tolerating of my size as I eased into him inch by inch, up to the limitations of his inner walls, “Matt, you are so hard inside me,” he whispered against my ear as he hugged me tighter. I couldn’t get enough of him as I allowed my length to disappear inside him just as fast as I pulled out. He was a cacophony of moans as my name died in his throat. I had never heard my name sound that good from anyone before, “Matt, faster.”

“Harold, baby, where the f**k have you been all my life?” He smelled of caramel and vanilla, which probably had to do with the meaty and buttery scent of the frozen food section we were in. But I didn’t give mind to it as I ravaged his lips, down to his neck, with a tamed aggression that was enough to leave bruises where they mattered. I kept pushing upward which made him scream my name perpetually. I felt him envelop my manhood with a kind of warmth that was hot and slick. He tightened all around me as he came without so much as touching himself. His nails dug at the skin of my back as he arched his body into an orgasm that he stretched euphorically.

We rode our orgasms to the last drop as we got lost in each other’s eyes. I murmured sweet nothings into his mouth as my stiffness softened inside of him, “Harold … you are amazing.”

I pulled his face down to kiss him again. He was the sweetest sin I ever tasted. And as we slowly retracted from a kiss that made me feel all kinds of stuff, I couldn’t help but acknowledge the dull ache that formed and spread in my chest, “Um, Matt?” he whispered my name sheepishly.

Oh God, he sounded like a true virgin, “Hmm, what is it Harold?” I murmured against his mouth.

“Groceries you ate, plus the damages. That’ll be sixty-nine dollars,” he smiled against my lips.

“Sixty-nine, I’ll show you sixty-nine,” I laid him down without breaking our precious contact. And before I knew it, I was already hard again with an urge to show him what the number meant.