Multiple Units #218

This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell -check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*This is a flash story. It is not a happy story.

*.*

Venice Apartments had a sign out front, with the name 'Venice Apartments' in black against a background of the Italian flag of green, white, and red. Encircling the name was the silhouette of a gondola and gondolier.

The complex was comprised of four separate buildings arranged in a square. Each building faced inward, faced the pool and small courtyard. The first building, the northeast building was three floors, with five apartments on each floor. Apartments 101, 105, 201, 205, 301 and 305 were two bedroom units. The three units in between each two bedroom unit were one bedroom units. The southeastern building had apartments 106 and 107 on the ground floor, each a two bedroom unit. The second and third floors had four single room efficiencies on each. The southwestern building was a duplicate of the northeastern building, each floor with a two bedroom unit on the corners, separated by three one bedroom units. And the northwestern building was a duplicate of the southeastern building, a ground floor of two units, each with two bedrooms, then eight one room efficiencies atop. Behind the northwestern building was a large laundry room and an exercise room.

Across the parking lot in front of the northeastern building was the rental office. And on top of the rental office was the apartment building's clubhouse. Each tenant had the right to reserve the clubhouse for parties, but they must notify the apartment manager of the desired time that they planned to use the clubhouse.

#218

Arthur 'Artie' Lawless sat in the small efficiency apartment, back to the solitary window and poised, finger over the 'Enter' key. If he hit the key, hit the 'Send' button, his response to 'Dancer1999 would be sent.

The room was sixteen feet by twelve feet. His twin sized bed was against the wall; Artie had left just enough room for the small closet door to be fully opened. His small barrel chair was situated close to the bed so that chair and bed shared the small table Artie had rescued from his mother's garage. Actually, it created a simple, cozy area.

To the left of the front door was the kitchen and dining area. Another table and two chairs dominated that side of the room. Against the wall, next to the door was a small bookcase which held Artie's radio. The radio was another 'rescue' from his mother's garage. The CD player and cassette player did not work. But as long as Artie could get WWL out of New Orleans to listen to the New Orleans Saints games and the LSU Tigers sports, and KLUL out of Elgee, Louisiana so that he could listen to Classical, Artie was happy.

With a sigh, Artie hit CRTL + A then hit the DEL key and deleted his response to Dancer1999. He cursed himself for being a coward.

"Hmm? Oh, Haydn? Oh, that's a lovely piece," Artie murmured, hearing the beautiful, playful melody being broadcast.

"Just as well; Dancer1999 looks a little... mean," Artie consoled himself and logged out of the classified ads, Men Seeking Men' section of the ULD on-line newspaper.

With another look around, Artie logged onto his favorite porn site to see if Dudley Bryant Lancaster had posted anything new. Dudley was a very cute young man of five feet in height. His videos usually had him 'wandering into the wrong neighborhood' and being grabbed by one or two muscled brutes that would teach him not to come around their neck of the woods.

The latest video had shown Dudley being anally fisted by one young man while another young man shoved his long, thick cock down Dudley's throat. Watching the vulgar, obscene video, Artie had spurted a hot, sticky load into the crotch of his jockstrap.

There was no new DBL video. With another sigh, Artie shut off the laptop and placed the small computer on the bookcase underneath the radio. Absently, he rubbed his swelling manhood through shorts and jockstrap.

Dancer1999 would look around Artie's little apartment with disdain. He would sit at Artie's table, drink all of Artie's beer and eat the lion's share of the meal Artie would prepare for their romantic candlelight dinner. Of course, Dancer1999 would extinguish the flickering candles after telling Artie he had no interest in that kind of faggot shit.

After the meal, Dancer1999 would slap Artie, slap him hard enough to make Artie see stars. Dancer1999 would sneer and call Artie horrible names and punch Artie so hard in the stomach that Artie would almost throw up.

Then, as Artie would gasp, sobbing and trying to catch his breath, Dancer1999 would jerk Artie's nicest black jeans down around Artie's knees, hobbling Artie. Just like they did in prison, Dancer1999 would use nothing but his spittle for lubrication as he jammed an unbelievably thick and long cock into Artie's tightly clenched rectum.

"Fucking faggot, shut the fuck up," Dancer1999 would snarl hatefully as he forced his cock into Artie's raw, aching bowels. "Fucking bitch; this is what you fucking wanted, isn't it?"

The pain would be intense; Dancer1999 would have a very thick cock that would stretch Artie's virgin hole painfully wide. Dancer1999 wouldn't care; if anything, Artie's tears would spur Dancer1999 on. Dancer1999 would fuck Artie, fuck him hard until Artie blew a load of man cream into the crotch of his jock strap. Then Dancer1999 would squeeze Artie's balls, squeeze them painfully hard while he pumped Artie's man hole full of Dancer1999's man juice. Then he would slap Artie a few more times before leaving Artie's little studio apartment. Tearfully, Artie would clean himself up. Sporadically through the night, Artie would wake up, remembering with shame that he'd finally been fucked, and Artie would masturbate as he relived the shame of succumbing to another man's vulgar, selfish desires. Artie's anus would throb painfully, a constant reminder of the brutal sodomization he'd endured.

Artie made sure that the flimsy blinds on his small window were closed, that the slats faced upward. Artie knew the window was tinted; no one could see into his small apartment. He had tested this fact for himself; standing on the outside and pressing his face against the glass, trying to peer in. But he checked his blinds nonetheless.

Blinds in the correct position, Artie then checked that the door was securely locked and the security chain was in place. Satisfied, he dropped his shorts to the floor and lay on his bed. Slowly, Artie stroked his cock through his cotton jock strap. Several times, Artie would stop, stomach muscles tensed as his crisis drew near. When he was no longer in danger of ejaculating, Artie then resumed softly stroking his painful erection through the soft cotton fibers of his athletic support as he imagined Dancer1999's brutal treatment.

When he was sure he would explode, Artie lowered the crisp white garment, freeing his six inches of uncircumcised meat and brought his legs up and over. Opening his mouth wide, Artie slipped a few inches of cock into his mouth.

Dancer1999 would grab a handful of Artie's hair and force Artie onto his knees. They would meet in a bathroom of a high school stadium. Outside, the sounds of a football game being played between two fierce rivals would echo and throb. Inside, in the dank, smelly bathroom, Dancer1999 would force Artie to kneel on the filthy concrete floor as he fed his cock to Artie's face.

At any moment, two or three handsome, well-muscled eighteen year old high school students could come into the dank, foul-smelling public restroom and catch 'Farty' Lawless doing exactly what everyone knew Fartie liked doing. Dancer1999 would blow his load down Artie's throat and the next handsome, muscular eighteen year old man would step up and jam his thick, sweaty cock into Artie's mouth. Artie would sob in shame as he tongued that soft, sensitive area between cockhead and thick foreskin. Artie would taste his unnamed lover's soap and sweat as he lapped at the virile young man's excitement. Dancer1999 wouldn't even tell Artie goodbye as he left Artie's fate in the hands of these handsome, muscled, horny young studs.

Artie screamed and began swallowing his salty, bitter semen as it flooded into his hot sucking mouth. He fondled his freshly shaved balls as his cock jerked and pulsed, spurting more delicious sperm into his sucking, moaning mouth.

Satiated for now, Artie got up and prepared himself a bite of lunch. After a truly delicious soup and salad, Artie started the very noisy dishwasher. He turned off the radio; he could not hear the Chopin piece over the racket of the old appliance.

For a few moments, Artie sat, listening to the grunts and thumps of the appliance. Soon, though, he tired of this and grabbed his laptop again. Logging onto the University of Louisiana at DeGarde's on-line newspaper, Artie clicked the link for 'Men Seeking Men' site again. Looking at a brand new profile, Artie carefully read JackBNimble2003's words. Artie saw that JackBNimble2003 had posted the ad nine minutes earlier, had posted the ad while Artie sat and enjoyed his meal.

"Do it. Do it. Just fucking, for God's sake do it," Artie demanded of himself.

But of course, Artie hesitated. He read and re-read his response to JackBNimble2003's ad and agreed, it was a good, friendly, even playful response to JackBNimble2003's ad.

Artie would send a response, nothing too obvious, just a friendly little greeting. JackBNimble2003 would respond, suggesting coffee at Jitters. JackBNimble2003 would suggest they each wear a red cap, a silent method to identify one another.

And then when Artie showed up, wearing his ULD Storm baseball cap, JackBNimble2003 and a bunch of his friends would be inside of the coffee shop and they would laugh and point at Artie. They'd even scream hateful, hurtful words at him and alert everyone in the popular coffee house to the fact that Artie was a big old cock sucking faggot.

Artie screamed out when his cell phone rang. Recognizing the phone number of Miss Sassy, the mature woman that owned and managed the restaurant where Artie was a busboy/dishwasher, Artie answered the call. Sassy asked Artie if he could come in; Danny claimed to have a touch of a bug or something.

"Uh, the Storm wouldn't happen to be playing today, would they?" Artie asked and Sassy agreed.

Artie worked hard; no one would ever accuse Artie Lawless of being lazy. He bussed the tables, kept the waitress station stocked, and kept the dishes and glasses ready. At the end of the evening, the three waitresses each slipped Artie a ten dollar bill. Kenyatta, a very buxom African-American waitress flirted with Artie, smirking at his heavy blush.

Home again in his tiny apartment, Artie showered that night's smells from his flesh, then felt incredibly naughty as he wiggled into his bed, wearing only a smile as his pajamas. The cool, crisp sheets felt wonderful against his bare skin and he sighed contentedly as sleep crept up.

In the morning, Artie was in the apartment's laundry room, waiting for the clock to strike Seven AM, the posted time that tenants could begin washing their clothes. At seven am precisely, Artie pushed the buttons on the first, then second, then third washing machine.

At ten minutes after seven, a cute young man entered the laundry room and took the fifth and sixth washing machine for himself. Sleepily, he greeted Artie and fumbled about for the correct amount of quarters.

While they waited, they mumbled at one another. Artie said he lived in Apartment 218 and the other young man laughed and said he lived in 318, right above Artie.

Artie transferred the clothes into dryers one, four and nine; two and seven didn't work and five tended to scorch clothing. Ricky kept checking his washing machines, waiting for his cycle to end.

Oh, and quit walking around so heavy, huh?" Artie joked as he left the dank smelling room, laundry basket in hand.

"What. Ever Dude," Ricky laughed and waved to Artie.

In Apartment 218, Artie carefully folded his clothing and put everything away. He always made sure to pair up all his socks in the laundry room; there was nothing worse than losing a sock in transit. Then he logged onto the ULD on-line newspaper again.

Artie again typed out his response to JackBNimble2003. He told himself to take a chance, finally do it and hit 'Send.' Cursing himself, cursing his failures, Artie deleted his carefully worded, cheerful greeting. He then lay down on his neatly made bed and napped.

Waking, Artie thought of the cute young man right above him. He wondered if perhaps Ricky might enjoy a few grilled ham sandwiches; Artie's mother had given him an almost brand new electric skillet when he'd moved into the small apartment.

"I mean, hey, it, it's just, you know, two guys, two guys getting together and eating lunch. What? How, there's no way Ricky would ever know you want him to fuck you, fuck you like a bitch," Artie argued with himself, checking that he had enough ham, enough bread, enough cheese to make a few hot ham sandwiches.

But of course, Artie would be careless; Artie would forget that he had his lap top open, was logged onto the ULD's on-line classifieds. Ricky would see that Artie was on-line, cruising the 'men seeking men' site. Ricky would see that Artie was looking for a man, was looking to be fucked up his ass by a big fat throbbing cock.

Ricky would grab Artie, push Artie to his knees and would pull his fat meat out of his blue jeans. Ricky would tell Artie to get his whang good and wet; he was about to fuck Artie and Artie's spit was the only lube Ricky would use.

"Aw, you God damned bitch!" Ricky would scream as he pumped a hot load down Artie's gulping throat. "Fucking bitch; I wasn't ready to come just yet."

Ricky would pull out and squirt those last few hot spurts onto Artie's face, marking Artie as a cock sucking bitch. Then Ricky would grab his cock and start slapping Artie's face with his fat dick, slapping Artie with his meat, smearing his semen all over Artie's face.

Finally hard again, Ricky would fuck Artie, no preamble, he would just jerk Artie's jeans down and start fucking Artie.

Artie barely managed to pull his jeans and jock strap down in time. Catching his hot load in his hand, Artie wheezed to catch his breath. Then he licked his palm clean of his semen.

"Do it, damn it," Artie begged himself as he squeezed those last few drops of semen from his wilting member into his palm.

With a sigh, Artie slumped into his chair. After a long moment, he got to his feet and started to make a single ham and cheese sandwich. While the sandwich cooked, Artie emptied the dishwasher.

While Artie was cursing his cowardice, Rickey made his twin sized bed with his freshly laundered bedsheets. After a quick workout with his free weights, Ricky logged onto the ULD on-line newspaper.

With a sigh, Ricky saw that no one had responded to his latest ad. He let out a huff of disappointment and wondered what he was doing wrong. Reading his ad again, looking at his profile again, Ricky wondered why no one was nibbling at the bait JackBNimble2003 was dangling.

Sitting at his wobbly table, Ricky thought briefly of going downstairs to Apartment #218 and seeing if Artie would maybe like to go to that new burger place on Highway 52. You know, just two bros going to Sassy's, you know, nothing gay about going to Sassy's, ogling the cute waitresses in their skimpy little shorts as they scampered around, serving big greasy nasty burgers.

"Yeah, nothing gay, you know, just..." Ricky muttered, rubbing his cock through shorts and briefs.

Somehow the topic would come around to sex. Swallowing his mouthful of burger, maybe even taking a sip of his sasparilla, Ricky would admit to Artie that he was gay.

Artie would say something like 'no shit?' and they would lapse into silence. Artie would take another bite of his hamburger and Ricky would sit, waiting for the gentle, thoughtful rejection.

Or... Possibly the handsome young man in apartment 218 would admit to being maybe kind of you know somewhat a little bi-curious. They would come back here; the sheets were nice and clean. A little threadbare, but clean. They would get undressed and gently touch each other, touch each other's muscular chests and abdomens, hands travelling down to each other's hard, throbbing cocks.

Ricky would kneel on the bed between Artie's spread legs and would take Artie's fat cock into his mouth. Ricky would play with Artie's heavy balls while he slowly sucked and licked and stroked Artie's delicious cock.

Artie would insist on Sixty nine. They would lie on their sides, stroking each other's hard cocks. Then Ricky would feel Artie's tongue take a cautious lick of Ricky's throbbing cock. Artie's hot mouth would encircle the head of Ricky's cock and Ricky would slide his meat into Artie's sucking mouth. Ricky would swallow Artie's sweet cock into his mouth and soon, moans of delight would fill the apartment.

"Fuck!" Ricky groaned, filling his tidy whitey's with a geyser of semen.

While Ricky was in his miniscule shower, washing away the sticky semen from his pubic hair, Artie listlessly chewed his lunch. After eating the hot ham and cheese sandwich and a bag of chips, Artie lay down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to take a nap but could not seem to shut his mind off long enough. With a sigh, he rolled out of the bed and turned on his radio. Grabbing his laptop, he again went to the ULD on-line newspaper. No new ads had been posted.

There were no new ads. Again, Artie toyed with the idea of creating his own profile, posting his own ad.

'Cock sucking bottom wanting to be used like the little bitch he is,' Artie thought, feeling his mouth get dry, his palms get sweaty and his cock swell to full hardness as he thought about posting his desires for all to see.

'Sassy's... Can you handle a little heat?' he heard the commercial play after a jaunty Copland piece.

"Oh, shit!" Artie blurted out, realizing he was in danger of being late for the evening shift.

Artie was courteous, professional around the scantily clad waitresses. As always, he kept moving, kept hustling. Briefly, he did wonder if he should go back to school, at least get his GED, then maybe go to St. Elizabeth Parish Vo-Tech. There he would get a trade. There, he would learn to be more than just a dishwasher/bus boy.

Just like his hesitance to act on his homosexuality, just like his reluctance to ever answer any on-line posting, Artie knew he would never take action on his thoughts about his education. He had the want to, he just didn't have the have to in him.

"Sassy's, can you handle the heat from my feet?" Kenyatta tiredly joked at the end of the evening.

"Yeah, and worse? I can smell them," Flynn, an adorable red-headed pixie claimed.

"Thanks Artie," the third waitress said, tipping Artie ten dollars.

"Yeah, thanks, Sugar," Kenyatta agreed, peeling two fives from her wad of tips.

Returning home, bone-tired, Artie heard Ricky's feet overhead. As he showered, Artie could imagine Ricky coming into the miniscule shower and forcefully shoving Artie against the wall. Without preamble, Ricky would jam his fat cock into Artie's hole. He fuck Artie, meaty hand squeezing Artie's balls in a painful grip while he pounded Artie's protesting rectum.

"God!" Artie grunted, spraying his semen onto the shower wall.