Face Fuck Book #143--Joesey

Face Fuck Book #143--Joesey

Sure e's here, mugg'in it
Joesey—just Joesey
       never had a girly name
One all purpose
       —Mom knew just what to call him
 Joesey had a pretty face
        large eyes
        lips made to kiss
        an ass demonstrates
                why slavery perpetuates—
                no one ever wants to let go!

Joesey, free to wander
        ragged grey suitcase, Greyhound Bus
        and Mom
        Goodbye Chicago; Hello Hollywood!
        Change the bad for the good
High heels and dresses
         a wig with curly tresses
Out on the town from noon
         till the sound of heavy traffic
         home to make dinner for Mom
Hiding out in neighborhoods
         around corners
         sharing rooms in dismal hotels
                 never stopped clients
                 from cuming
          who remembered décor?
          when cocked
          in mouth an' ass

The homeless knew Joesey
       the only one on the block working!
       approached by a solicitus client
A loud voice emanated from behind the dumpster
                  "I smell cock"
                  "I smell garbage", said the client
"Oh, just be good," says Joesey, to the homeless man
       "Come along hon", client in hand
        up the long staircase of the walk up hotel

 Known in the back streets of Hollywood
       every morning rose early
       comb hair and hot iron press
       classic style was his pref
       gave up on wigs
       he was deft
Worked everyday but
       the Sabbath
"What, are you Jewish now?"
"Well, I've had a lot of Jewish in me,"
       a broad smile
       wiggles his ass to make his point

Sabbath was his time to pray
       take Mom for a walk
       along the star studded sidewalks
       a movie show  
What do you know?
       approached one day        
       an Advertising Exec
       offered what you'd expect
       tryout for an ad campaign
Selling ice cream on the TV
       took the chance, auditioned
       short run, high hopes

Back to cock sucking
       steady cash
       dance card full
       worked off the telephone
       abandoned back streets
       upscale nights of elegance  
       chandeliers, grand pianos
       everyone recognized him
              "The Ice Cream Kid"
           or "Josephine"
        he'd wiggled his big eyes
                 like Josephine Baker
        "a distant cousin" he'd say
         pouting his lips
         sucking in his high cheeks
         a shake of the ass
Jets to Reno, Vegas, Cancun,
         once a week in Rio,
         Carnival
         brought back Maracas,
 "No, I cannot tell you who I was with," he whispers.

The years began to pass
        A lot of star fuckers in his ass
        names he's too professional to recall
But if you name a 80's movie star he will grin
        "that's business, I can't tell"
         "But this," patting his ass,
         "has known more stars then these sidewalks"

Not to mention his cock,
         quite "endowed" is his word  
         as firm as an oak baton
         though he likes it in the ass
         he's boned quite a few
         "You own me," they'd declare
                 in midstream
         "If you knew how many times I've heard that"
                 he says, when he pulls out
                 condom creamed full
                 (unless his client wanted a facial)
        different tokes for different blokes

When he hit forty he started balding
Shaved his head, his hair was falling
Got a job in a florist shop
       service is his middle name
       tending plants and clients
Occasionally an old customer
      would come in to shoot the breeze
      ask him to cum and visit
      hand him a calling card
      a folded hundred
Did he go?
      "I'm too professional to answer
             those kinds of questions"
       then in a high-pitched fem voice
       head cocked, ass tight
"I'll need a little time to prepare,"
       he whispers into the phone
Then looks up to see if anybody has heard...