dripped sweat.

when the last episode of will and grace left my screen i found myself sitting on my bed, staring at the computer screen...bored. this was the times of the day/night i hated most.

doing this during the day was cool because there were options after the good shows went off, but at night the options seemed to disappear with the credits.

approximately 46.5 minutes before my face became fixed on a screen saver, i somehow managed to finish off half of an apple pie and a pint of soy milk i brought a while back. thank God soy milk doesn't expire, i guess. the rumbling in my stomach this time had nothing to do with hunger, but everything to do with me walking that thin line between 'skinny boy' and 'nigga, put your shirt back on.'

my eyes made a move for the closet and located my three-year-old sauconys and my hoody.
i got up, adjusted my dick in my sweatpants, put on my sneakers and my hoody and made a move for the door.

i adjusted my dick because i began scrolling through all the emails i had in my 'biznass' folder. emails with dick attachments from seemingly millions of anonymous potentials.

outside was cool, dark and empty.
the streets were mute and the wind couldn't seem to muster up a whisper.
i put in my headphones and started my walk toward the park's 1.4 mile trail.

the park was just as empty as the streets i'd seen on my short trek en route.

i was wrong.
i hadn't even made it a half a mile when in the corner of my eye i noticed something bouncing.
then i noticed who was bouncing it.

i stood there for ten seconds and the words of the ying yang twins popped in my head:
a closed mouth don't get fed.
i was hungry.

'you ball?' he asked. it was too cold to be outside with no shirt on, but thank God this dark brown, hairless boy found a reason to remove his.

'i mean...i can make a few lucky shots.'

i placed the ipod on the bench beside his duffle and motioned for the ball.

the score was 9 to 7. he was ahead and i was having too much fun.
my shirt came off around point 4.
well...my hoody came off. i kept on my white t.

i found every excuse to guard him from behind, and he seemed to find every excuse to take forever to make a shot.
this game quickly became more than who won.
i think somewhere around the time i was lucky enough to level the playing field, we both made the decision that we'd both win in the end.
at least i hoped.

he won.

a few cars whipped past 500 feets away on the street and there was silence again.
i began dribbling the ball as he leaned against the post playing with the string on his shorts, looking at the ground and every once in a while stealing a peak at me.

'air ball' he said as he caught the ball i purposely tossed at the basket weakly.

'it's cool. i missed on purpose.' i was walking over to get the ball. he placed in under his foot.

'no more basketball tonight, sir' he said. he looked up at me and smile.

we stood 2 feet apart with nothing between us but the air that was becoming cooler as the sweat began drying.
my lungs pulled in more air than ever before and i could smell the acqua di gio he sprayed somewhere, some hours ago.

before i realized it, i had found where he sprayed the cologne.
my tongue found that all his teeth were in place and perfectly straight.
my hands found that my eyes were correct: he had no underwear on and the movement in the shorts earlier wasn't the wind.

against the post, i discovered new territory. i became christopher columbus under the court light that flickered in the dark.

this was something for the books. something for the journal. something so exciting, i couldn't make it past two minutes of warmth and tongue flicks on my dick.
he remained squatted, his back against the metal post, my knees about to give in. my head looking around in case the streets changed their minds and decided to fill up.

'i'm about to...'

and he sped up, not even giving me a second thought...
and suddenly the basket didn't seem so out of reach and the flickering light didn't seem so dim.
and not a drop touched the asphalt.

his dark gray, watering eyes across from mine, and his smile unlike any other.
the veins in his arm turned me on even more as he grabbed my right hand and placed it on the part of his shorts under which his dick found refuge.

i attempted to grip it, but my hands were too small.

'next time we play, i'll let you win. and this will be yours.'

i smiled and pulled him in closer as his eyes followed the last drop of sweat from the tip of my nose to the blacktop.
'next time we play, there will be no ball.' and i slowly slid my hand from his dick to my sweats to comfortably adjust my nuts.

we headed in seperate directions, him dribbling his ball, smiling back at me.
me, blasting common's 'testify' in my ears, putting his name in my phone.

yeah...
last night i dripped sweat.
tomorrow night i think i'll do the same.