Who Am I Now? - Sex Stories

Who Am I Now?

... up inside the truck looking bored as he turned to fill whatever the pair had just ordered. Bill read the menu. He didn’t know what most of it meant, but the smell of the food was getting to him. After the couple in front of him took their order away, he stepped up to the window and asked for papitas, not knowing exactly what they were. Two or three more people gathered behind him while he waited. He ended up with a brown paper bag full of French fries. They had some kind of red powder on them, and he hoped they wouldn’t be too spicy. There was a bench only a couple of yards away from the truck on a diagonal from the window. He set his briefcase down and sat to eat his fries. They were only a little spicy. His fingers got salty and a little bit greasy, but the fries were hot and good. Two men and a woman stepped up to the truck. They were laughing and speaking rapid fire Spanish. They even got the man in the truck to crack a slight smile. The men were both robust and a little bit paunchy. The woman’s ass looked too big for the rest of her body. It was packed into jeans tight as paint. Bill wondered what it would be like to sidle up behind her and press his body against her ass, touch her shoulder, pull her raven with henna streaked hair away from her neck and be able to tell her things in Spanish that would make her soften and lean back against him. He kept eating his papitas, every so often wiping his fingers on his pants. He wondered how long any of the people standing ...

... beside the truck had been here. Even in the cold, they seemed more at home than he felt. One of the men casually touched the woman’s ass while they waited for their order. Looking away, he laid his attention into his bag of papitas. He knew he wasn’t going to finish them, but they were good and he’d already decided to come back and get some more when he came this way again next Thursday. Maybe he’d try those cut up bananas that looked like they had some kind of syrup on them. Getting up from the bench, Bill took the chance of scanning the woman’s ass again as he tossed his half eaten bag of papitas in the trash barrel. The man’s hand was still cupping her extravagant cheek. Penelope had an ass like that, but she wouldn’t be caught dead in anything that tight. He found himself wishing they were the couple standing in front of the window of the truck, waiting for their order with his hand on her back pocket, but she’d probably have a heart attack if he ever touched her ass in front of anyone. Perfectly at home. On the street. In their skin. Bill kept going. He felt the distance between himself and the subway increasing. The church. The singer and the lady with a walker. The chimi truck. The woman with the ass too big for the rest of her. As he drew closer to Penelope’s, he wondered how many more years of his life he would live as a ghost before his time came to become some other kind of ghost. He wondered if sometime he’d even start to like feeling scraped out all the time. Two ...