— originally published in
Playguy Magazine - July, 1995 issue —
— When the Moon Hits Your Eye... —
In the picture window of the pizza parlor he flipped and stretched the
dough, making pizza pies.
He caught my eye, not because of his pizza-making show but because of
his unusual looks. I mean, how often do you see a guy with purple hair?
And there was a silver ring in his nostril. He was young, not over
I'd passed the pizza parlor many times before and seen a different pizza
maker in the window, an older man.
I was hungry, although pizza is not my favorite food. I wouldn't order
it for my last meal like that convict they executed recently. Out of
curiosity I went into the pizza parlor.
Sitting in a booth near the counter, I ordered a small sausage pizza and
a pitcher of beer from the waiter. I had a bird's-eye view of the pizza
maker's back. He was shorter than I'd thought, now that I could see he
was standing on the wooden planks. The white apron he wore was open in
the back, offering a great view of the boy's muscular denim-clad butt.
The waiter brought me the beer, which I sipped while I ogled the
purple-haired pizza maker's assets, so to speak. I watched him fix my
pizza and place it in the oven.
Several minutes later he took out the pizza with a long wooden-handled
gizmo and placed it on a silver platter.
Surprised me when he personally brought the pizza over to my booth and
placed it in front of me.
I looked into his sparkling blue eyes.
"Thanks," I said.
The pizza was tasty. Gooey cheese, meaty and deep crust. Not cheap but
it was worth it. I washed it down with beer while I discreetly eyeballed
the pizza maker. The more I looked at his bubble butt, the more my cock
I started to go for pizza a couple of times a week. I learned that the
pizza maker's name was Tommy. Since I was a regular he became friendly.
He had a big smile and always said hello. And he usually put extra
cheese and sausage on my pizzas.
Of course, I was imagining things. He was just a boy, being friendly.
The purple hair was probably a phase, intended to shock older people.
Besides, I'd seen plenty of punks with green spiked hair and rings
through their lips. I remember when I wore my hair long, back in
college, and the stares and snide remarks people made. Each generation
has its own style and its own music.
I began some serious fantasizing about Tommy. Something about him
sparked my crotch. I guess it was his maddening ass. In college I had
looked at baskets, but as I got older I was more of an ass man. I still
liked twenty-ish guys best. Guess it's that kind of innocence when
they're still a boy and not yet a man, but with a man's equipment--and
I had one particularly wild dream about Tommy. Only our roles were
reversed. I made a pizza on his body, basting it with tomato sauce,
covering it with stringy cheese and sausage. Which I ate and licked off
his naked body. It was licking the cheese off his cock that startled me
awake with a spurting prick.
One night I had to work late at the office. I looked forward to stopping
for a pizza on the way home and getting a gander at Tommy. But the
report I was working on took longer than I thought. By the time I
stopped it was too late. Even the cleaning woman was trying to shoo me
out so she could do her chores. I'd miss seeing Tommy.
Not only that, it was raining and the buses had stopped running. I stood
on the street. Not a cab in sight, not even by the stand near the hotel.
I was getting soaked.
Suddenly a gray Volkswagen van pulled up to the curb, splashing me with
water. I silently cursed. They had the whole damn block to park in.
The driver reached over and opened the passenger door.
"Want a lift?"
It was Tommy, the pizza punk!
"You're a lifesaver," I said, climbing into the car.
Inside the van I looked at him. He looked even younger without the white
apron, in his plaid flannel shirt and bibbed overalls.
"Where you headed?" he asked.
"The pizza parlor, but I was working late and lost track of time."
"It's closed now."
"Back to my old barn then, I guess," I said with a sigh.
"I like the rain. Makes me ... you know."
I didn't know, but I hoped he meant horny. That's how it made me
feel--at least in Tommy's van.
"Yeah, I was your age once, believe it or not. Used to have a different
date every night."
Of course this was a big fat lie. Most of my dates were taking advantage
of myself at night.
"So did I when I was in the band," Tommy mumbled.
"You were in a band?" I asked.
"A punk rocker all the way. Satanic shit, the whole bit. Sang some, but
mostly played the guitar. Got a lot of attention when I grabbed my
crotch. Made the babes hot. I kept the same drag after the band broke
up, not enough gigs. Hard to get an honest job. Pizza's my favorite
food. Used to make it at home from scratch. I practically lived off
pizza when I was on the road."
All I knew at this point was that Tommy made me hot. I'd like to see him
grab his crotch. Hell, I'd grab it for him.
There was a moment of silence. I thought I'd better get out and call a
cab before I did something foolish and ruin our casual friendship.
"Where's your house?" he asked.
"On the other side of town. But you don't have to drive me."
"Got nothing else to do. I have a room but I just crash there. Used the
van to haul our sound equipment and stuff. I auditioned for other bands
but nothing happened after I left Boys From Hell. That was the name of
our band. Made my dad crazy. He's a cop in my hometown."
"I can buy you some gas," I offered hopefully.
"Got plenty. Get good mileage in a VW, you know."
I navigated Tommy to my digs.
"This is the nice part of town," he said.
"Living well is the best revenge, they say."
"I guess so."
"Come in for a brandy. Take the chill off," I said as casually as I
"Sure. Why not?"
Running from the van to the building entrance door, we both got soaked.
Inside my apartment I got us clean towels to dry off with. I wondered if
the purple dye would run out of his short hair, but it didn't. Then I
poured us each a small snifter of brandy.
"Nice pad. Cozy place to bring babes."
"I'm too old for that kind of life."
"You ain't so old."
I poured Tommy some more brandy. Maybe he'd get drunk and pass out.
Maybe I could sneak a look at his jewels. Maybe cop a feel of that sweet
ass of his.
"Tommy, you're soaked. Why don't you take off your clothes, dry them on
"I'm okay." "I'm not."
The brandy was smooth and mellow. I took off my trousers. Like Ted
Kennedy, I thought--but I didn't wear underwear.
Tommy dropped his bibbed overall straps and took off his red plaid
flannel shirt. He lay it near the hissing steam radiator.
"Take off the T-shirt," I said.
When Tommy peeled off his white T-shirt I was awestruck by his tender,
hard body and rosy nipples.
I wanted to yank those bibbed overall straps down his butt in the worst
"Take off the denims," I was getting bolder now.
Damned if he didn't. He had a shit-eating grin on his face.
The small compact purple-haired punk with a small silver ring in his ear
lobe and another in a nostril stood in his white cotton briefs and
combat boots with sweat socks.
I couldn't help it, I just got a big boner that poked up between my
Tommy grabbed his crotch bulge.
"This is what you want, ain't it?"
Tommy came over to the overstuffed chair where I was sitting and pressed
his crotch against my face. I loved the sight of his crotch bulge and
the smell of his piss- and cum-stained shorts. I licked them and nibbled
With my teeth I tugged down his shorts. Out plopped his fat, clipped
"Play with it. Get it hard. Jack it for me."
"No. You do it. Lick it, cock-sucker," Tommy said.
He grabbed my hair and smashed my face in his crotch. The crotch hair
was blond, his natural hair color. Inhaling his musky crotch, I started
to lick it.
"Lick my nuts, pervert."
I licked his wrinkled nut sack.
"Suck on 'em."
I sucked one nut, then the other. I managed to get both of them into my
mouth and started to swish them around.
"Oh, yeah. Fuck, yeah."
Holding his milky white shaft with the leafy blue veins beneath the
skin, I flicked my tongue over it.
His cock ballooned into a hefty seven-incher.
"Get on that dick and suck it," he commanded.
Holding the base of his prick, I licked the rosy crown which turned
purplish. I tasted the slimy pre-cum. I swabbed my tongue over the
bulbous crown and licked the sensitive ridge beneath.
"Eat it. Eat my dick," yelled Tommy. He was getting really worked up.
I gobbled up his dick while he rocked on his heels and pumped it down my
throat. I tugged on his wet ball sack.
"Oh, fuck, yeah. Never got head from a dude before. Thought about it a
lot. Wanted to. Ain't into dudes my own age. Older guys like you are
better. Like daddy taking care of you. Bet you've sucked tons of dick in
I wanted to respond but with that stiff, juicy prick battering my
tonsils, stuffing my mouth, I couldn't speak.
Tommy had a kind of flour smell about him from the pizza parlor, but it
was a clean odor. Commingled with his sweat it was a downright delicious
His body was perfect. Totally smooth. Not a blemish on it. Ditto his
cock. I like compact model studs who are hung big.
My own cock was throbbing and begging to be stroked, but I didn't want
to blow my load yet.
Tommy began to fuck my mouth in earnest. His balls slapped against my
Reaching around, I grabbed his meaty but firm ass cheeks. He didn't stop
me. I felt them flex while he sawed his dick in and out of my mouth.
"Keep sucking it, cock-sucker. Get me off. Make me cum! Make me cream
your fucking throat!"
In a brazen moment, with his cock lustily prodding my throat, I rubbed
my finger in his sweaty asscrack. He didn't notice or try to stop me.
"I'm ready. Aw fuck! Fucking cumming! Shooting my fucking scum in your
mouth. Take it. Swallow it, cock-sucker!" he shouted.
Tommy's cock was hard as a rock. It dribbled, then it gushed big wads of
hot, creamy cocks not that whitewashed my tonsils as it filled my mouth.
To my surprise it was thick and tasted sweet as honey.
I nursed on his cock till it softened and fell out of my mouth.
"Turn around a let me look at that cute macho butt of yours," I said,
fondling my raging prick. "Boy, I could get off just looking at your hot
"Yeah, just look, dude. Nothing else."
Used to performing with the pizza dough, I guess he wanted to give me a
show. When he reached behind and spread his butt cheeks I had to stop
stroking my cock or I'd shoot off for sure. His pucker was small and had
to be cherry.
"Got a magnificent butt, Tommy. Let me kiss it, just kiss it."
He responded by wiggling his fanny. He was a natural born showoff, a
Clutching his smooth, sinewy thighs, I licked his butt cheeks. I nibbled
on them, leaving faint red teeth marks. I squeezed my cock.
With a stiff prick that had no conscience I just dove in and lapped at
his crack. I darted my tongue into his pucker.
"Yeah, eat that ass. Lick that asshole. Feels good," moaned Tommy.
I tongued the crack and slurped and slobbered in it. Had it all lubed
and ready to stick. I was sure he'd stop me any second now and end my
By now I had Tommy down on all fours on the rug. I was behind him,
scarfing up his box like there was no tomorrow.
I was shocked when he reached back around his leg and grabbed my pulsing
prick, saying "Oh, Jesus, it's so big and hard."
"Want it, don'cha, baby? You want that dick in your ass."
"Never done any queer stuff before. Thought about blow-jobs from a dude
but not butt-fucking. Never knew my asshole was so sensitive. But your
dick's too big."
"I'll go easy. I'll stop when you say so," I knew I had him.
"Oh, dude, I dunno. Never thought much about getting corn-holed."
"Try it, you'll like it."
That was all the go-ahead I needed. Rimming an ass used to work all the
time, I remember. Even with the most butch numbers. Studs like Tommy
My cock was oozing. I targeted my love muscle and nudged it in the pizza
punk's cherry butthole.
"Aw, fuck. It hurts real bad."
"Relax, baby. You can take it. You want it. You wanna get screwed."
I slid inch after inch slowly up his shit channel, feeling all the nooks
and crannies of this virgin territory. I stayed still while his ass-ring
stretched around my turgid prick.
He cradled his head in his arms with his butt propped up in the air.
"Do it, dude. Fuck me."
I proceeded to pump his shitter. He bucked back. Now I knew he could
handle it. He could take it.
"Give it to me."
I love it when a punk begs for dick--my dick. I reamed him deep.
"Aw, shit. Never dreamed this would happen, that I'd get hit in the
shitter. Feels weird. But I like it."
With my heaving nuts urging me on, ascending up against the
base of my prick, I began to jackhammer the boy's cherry butthole. His
ass muscles gripped my cock. I pounded his asshole with fury.
"Keep fucking my ass. Harder! Give it to me. Let me have it, everything
I pulled out all the stops, ramming that hot, tight butthole like a
pile-driver, like it was my last fuck on earth. Within minutes my cock
was steely hard and ready to explode.
Shoving my cock in, pulling back until it nearly fell out, I rammed it
home again faster and faster.
"Do it, motherfucker. Shoot it! Shoot your scum in my shithole!"
Hearing the cherry boy's dirty words and knowing he wanted my sperm up
his asshole, I lost it and blasted his bowels, flooding his insides with
my heavy load.
"Ah, yeah. Fuck, yeah," Tommy howled.
He grabbed hold of his cock with my meat entrenched in his butthole and
beat off with a blurry hand.
"Do it, baby. Get off with my cock inside you."
Tommy moaned and groaned while he pumped. He grunted and his cock
exploded. I felt his asshole spasm around my cock while he shot a puddle
onto the rug.
When I pulled my prick out of his asshole he collapsed on the rug into
the cum puddle. I fell on top of him.
The rain was splashing against the window pane when I came back to the
reality of the moment.
"You can stay the night, Tommy."
"I'd better split. You know us musicians, one-night stands."
Although I wanted to hold onto Tommy, that's all it was. He was the
hottest sexpot I could remember.
I stopped in the pizza parlor to eat a few nights later, giving him time
to sort out what had happened. He smiled and greeted me but he was a
little distant and uncomfortable. He even dropped the pizza dough he was
I wanted to invite him home with me but decided to cool it. He was young
and needed space.
I stayed away the rest of the week but I couldn't stop thinking about
Tommy, and every delicious detail of our encounter. I whacked off a
storm with his image in my head.
The following week when I stopped at the pizza parlor there was an older
guy doing the dough show in the window. Maybe Tommy had changed his days
"Where's Tommy?" I asked the waitress.
"He quit. Said his band was getting back together again. You know how
kids are nowadays."
"Yeah," I muttered to my feet.
I ordered a pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I took a couple bites and
swallows of beer and left, leaving my money on the table.
The pizza parlor wasn't the same without Tommy. Neither was my life. But
I was grateful for the one-night stand with the purple-haired pizza punk
musician. He'd remember me because I was his first man, and I'd never
forget my Pizza Boy From Hell.