Can I Get A Cigarette

"What up yo, let me get a cig." I heard as I strolled through the transit center headed to revamp my resume. I ignored the words and kept walking, swiftly picking up my pace; I only had a few left and the one I was smoking was getting good to me. "Yo bro, I know you hear me, let me get an L", echoed and tingled in my ears and I stopped dead in my tracks. Something about that scruffy, demanding tone sent chills all over me and made my spincter sweat. It was a queer boys delight, being commanded to oblige a manly order indirectly acting coy but desiring some attention at the same time. Upon peeking at my pursuer, I couldn't help but stare at that tapioca colored complexion and chiseled body of a god with obvious desire drooling from the corners of my lips. Dang, I didn't want to seem so obvious; but I couldn't help it. I was turned on by this stranger with his tethered, masculine appearance and commanding presence. "My bad man, my mind is somewhere else." I purred, feeling all mushy for no other reason than a lack of real tact. I was so soft and fragile, and I know it spilled from my body like a gravy train. I mean, he simply asked for a cigarette. "Here you go," I offered as I pulled out my Seneca Menthols from my manbag; glancing down at an enormous bulge swinging freely in the wind between his legs. I coughed nervously as he grabbed the cigarette and caught my line of sight between his thighs. "Thanks yo, I needed that" he said while adjusting his muscle which was now pointing at me! Nervously I smiled and said "Anytime bro, my pleasure" with a twinkle in my eye that had to tell the story. He knew I was a wet mouth queer ready to drop down and get my eagle on! "What's good wit ya, where you headed", he asked while I was trying to compose myself and not look so thirsty. At this point, I'm looking around feeling tongue-tied unable to utter a word. "You okay," he barked and I bent over to retrieve the Senecas which slipped from my butter fingers. He stepped to the side and my face brushed his hardness on the way back up to my feet. "Omg!" I thought, I just got slapped in the face and I liked it! I licked my lips and said "excuse me bro, my bad" thinking what a real queen move that was. He smirked and said, "I know you want it, it's all good." As if he was reading my mind, he gave me his address and told me to "pull up" when "you ready." Dumbfounded and perplexed and gasping for air, I stood there at the terminal as he disappeared off in the sea of commuters making their way to their destinations, oblivious to time or what I was about to do with my day. I was in a dream, or so it seemed; I couldn't remember what I was about to do. Then I heard these kids snickering and it snapped me out of my haze. I had drooled all over my shirt and had a big wet stain front and center. "Dammit man, you okay" somebody shouted out. I shook my head in disbelief and without a second thought said "It's all good, yo. I just need a cigarette!"