A homeless man

Like most weekend afternoons in the city it was filled with 9-to-5ers, families on getaway, leisure seekers, grumps just trying to make it to the front of the coffee line while the new clerk flibbed another order.

Boris was none of these. He was evicted something years ago and left to roam the streets of America. The grey was in his hair and the law had been on his tail more times than he'd care to admit. But he had been places, he'd tell you while you walked away.

This weekend he stood at the highway exit. Just past the turnpike was the mall strip, crowds of cars and people around it, with their coupons and groupies and shopping bags.

Him? He wasn't making any delusions. Just rooting for that stray, altruistic dollar, even that naive ten, that slipped by once every rusty tire. Holding up his cardboard sign he'd had for almost a week now, he coughed up a loogie, and stamped it into the dirt. He moved his gaze back to the road, he watched them all driving by in their air-conditioned prisons.

'HUNGRY
WILL WORK FOR FOOD
IF THE WORK'S EAZY'

A half hour in he realized he had been holding his sign upside down, and turned it. Wouldn't want people to go crashing into one another, after all. The pigs would come oinking.

After what felt like days, a Camaro convertible drove past. Beach music blared and a fitful of laughter. Behind the wheel sat a slick-haired middle-aged man, glasses against his forehead and probably a million credit cards in his wallet. An entourage of smiting hot women, all decked in brand name clothes, were collected in various positions in the backseat. One sat in the front passenger chair. Boris hoped to glare at him and move on, but the driver noticed him, cracked some kind of joke at the women, then turned back with a little box in his hand.

"Get off the road, you squatter!"

Boris failed to dodge his throw as the man drove off, and the box smacked him square in the forehead. He lost his footing and fell.

"Screeew yooou!" Boris called after them once his ass was on the ground. How could they even hear the music over all that indulgent laughter? "Damn it." He dusted himself off. He was about to stand back up when he noticed the box on his lap, grumbled, and took it in his hands.

"What's this?" He removed the lid and found a pair of earrings inside. Some of the cheapest-looking he'd seen, but still, was it his lucky day or what? He just got free jewelry, even if they looked 90% plastic. "Holy shit! That bastard must have thought it was empty or something." Like poop on a party, Boris had an irritating thought. It was also possible that he was flaunting just how rich he was, that something like that was inconsequential to him. Enough to be used for throwing at people.

Stubbornly, Boris decided not to think of it that way, and held onto the earrings for the rest of the afternoon.

An hour had passed when the call of nature came. He had just emerged from the bushes, zipping up. Two young women were passing by, one in a breezy sundress and the other in a shirt and jeans. They were engaged in a lighthearted conversation he couldn't care less for. Judging by the Forever 21 bag over the jeans woman's arm, someone had just had a pleasant trifle of a shopping spree.

Boris sneered to himself and ogled their tight bodies through their clothes. When they'd noticed him, the brunette in the sundress squeaked and scuffled to the side. The other brunette turned and followed suit. Eyes fixed forward, they both quickened the pace.

"What's the matter?" He couldn't help himself, and followed after them. "Never seen a handsome devil like me before?"

"S-stay away!" the woman in the sundress warned.

"Get lost, creep!" the other one joined in.

They always played hard to get. Why miss out on the finer things in life just for a simple routine? More cars zoomed by as Boris pulled a hand out of his pocket.

"Wait, look! I'd be a perfect baby poppa, don't you see?" He pointed at the dangling earpieces. An 'N' hung off each connector. "Look, I'm loaded with bling!"

The timid woman turned back only to be elbowed by her friend. "Don't look," she quietly redirected her, her own head staunchly faced forward. "It'll only make it worse."

Boris cursed, clipping the earrings on with a devilish gleam in his eye. I'll show them 'worse'...

"Oh laa-aadies," he crowed. One earring in place, his hand struggled to put in the other. In the end he was one catcall too late.

They had made it to the overflow parking lot space, situated down the block from the western mall region. Waiting for them there was a young man around their age who totally worked out. His gelled up hair gave him the look of a fashionable pretty boy.

"Timmy!" The woman in the jeans waved. "Over here!"

He flipped his head around. When he spotted the girls he waved back. Then Boris came into view, creeping up on the pair, and his eyes turned into lasers. "Hey!" the broad-chested man declared, moving quickly. "Hey, you leave 'em the fuck alone!"

A storm of footsteps raced his way, and Boris sighed.

Oh well. Boris decided that if he was gonna be late, so were these shits -- the circle of life, baby. With his own quick motions, he shuffled up to the woman in the jeans and slapped her ass hard. He made sure to give it a good squeeze. The vagrant chuckled, enjoying the feeling of tight flesh. The other, still unequipped earring remained gripped in his other hand.

"Fiine ass she's got, kid!" He looked to Timmy and returned to trying to attach the earring to his earlobe. "You and her pro'lly get--FHHHGK!"

Now, Boris was no foreigner to fights and tackles. He was a running back in high school. Even got an appraisal from a faux screening sponsored by a manager. He was embroiled in street fights more often than he would count to the pigs they called cops.

But after an incident at work injured his spinal disc he could never quite hold his ground the same way. Never really got over it either.

As Timmy lunged at him, he quickly stumbled back and out of the way. His shoulder got driven right through, though. That was gonna hurt in the morning.

"Oh, fuck!" chided miss-nice-ass, her hair flailing as she turned her ass back from Boris and felt her face redden, "He just fucking touched me!" Her hands covered her ass as if to protect it from ninjas, cheeks reddening in anger.

Timmy cracked his knuckles. "Don't worry, sis. I'll take care of this asshole."

"No, Timmy, don't," the other woman in the sundress objected, speaking up for once. Her pretty-faced worry showed clearly behind her words. "This has gotten bad enough, let's just leave and... let the cops deal with it..."

"It's only going to be a quick hook, Leslie, don't worry." Timmy stared forward at Boris, unfazed. It was the kind of look that you'd expect to see in a papa bear whose baby bear was just thrown off the roof of a building and cooked with FDA-sanctioned seasoning. Boris stepped back and raised his arms. Even if he was afraid, it wasn't like he had anything to lose, anyway. This was the kind of situations he put himself in for his weekly dose of entertainment these days.

Timmy brought a fist back and a step forward as Boris laughed sleazily. While they had their physical showdown, he worked on his other ear and with a clean poke, the earring finally slid into his lobe cleanly.

"Don't you see, Timmy?" He gestured to his now fully decorated ears. "These chicks know a star when they see one! They took one look at these million dollar earrings of mine and fell utterly in love, that's just how it works! Sorry brother, but you'll get yours next time!" He cackled.

And to his surprise, Timmy actually stopped. Like a glacier melting, something in the air seemed different. Yet the same. His face cast a lighter shadow as he withdrew his fist.

He straightened up, looked at Boris, then at the two women with him, then back at Boris, cocking a brow. A small smirk even appeared at the corner of his lips. "Oh, really?" He brought his punching arm into his torso and folded them.

"Is that what happened, ladies? Huh, Marissa?" He glanced jokingly at his two acquaintances.

"Oh ha-ha," Marissa replied with a matter-of-fact scoff, the woman whose ass had just been violated removing her hands from behind her and letting them back to her side. Boris rose his own brow. Her demeanor seemed to have cooled down considerably as well. She stared firmly at her brother, focusing right past Boris as if he wasn't there. "Of course that's not what happened. What do you take us for, Timmy? A bunch of hoes?"

Timmy laughed. Leslie's expression looked more relaxed, too. She gave Marissa a questionable glance as if to admonish her for her choice of words, however. The whole trio seemed to think they were back in each other's lonesome bland company and hanging out without a care in the world, or a dirty, homeless sexual assaulter in their midst. Boris, not knowing or caring what or why, took his chance.

Walking up to Timmy, he pushed him back and sent him to the ground. Marissa stopped talking to Leslie, both of them seeing what the commotion was.

"Yeah, eat it, bastard!" Boris spat at his face.

"Wow, Timmy," drawled Marissa sarcastically, not lifting a finger to help as her brother fell on his ass like a helplessly pacifist kindergartner. "So protective of you. You really are giving it to him, brother."

"Shut up," Timmy smirked at her and with his elbows pushed himself back up.

"No, YOU shut up!" Butted in Boris. He stepped on Timmy's stomach. The well-built man let out a pained groan. Satisfied, Boris returned his attention to Marissa and smiled wickedly, walking up to the slender black-haired hottie and eyeing her up and down.

"Hi there, darling," he batted his eyelashes. "Did you miss me?"

Marissa rolled her eyes again. "Just tell me one thing. How long has it been since you've properly washed that hand you slapped my ass with?" Her question came in a tone of surprising indifference. The implication flew over Boris' head, and he just hissed at her lecherously.

"You mean this hand?" Boris closed the distance between them and with the elegance of an untrained dancer, wrapped his arm around her with one hand and brought the other down to her ass cheeks once again, and gave them another caress as well as a tight smack.

"Yes, that one," the slim bodied, thickly trunked woman sighed impatiently. "Look, you don't need to follow my advice or anything, but having good hygiene is really important for your health, not just picking up women off the street to do whatever you want with thrumumggfhhhpfgh."

A slobbery, compact smooch interrupted her as Boris connected his lips with hers. He was still impressed by her stoic temperament, and took the opportunity to let his tongue invade her mouth and even lick her own a few times before finally stepping back and turning her around.

"Mmph," Marissa came for air, her face wrinkled into a slightly questionable expression, as she was turned around ass first, bent over in front of Boris who proceeded to caress her ass like an automated soap bar. "Finally," she remarked, "fresh air. I think that eroded half of my mints..."

smack!

"There he goes again," she muttered, her ass jiggling from another handy thrust. Then she looked to Leslie, who was furtively looking away. Then a giggle popped out, and Marissa crinkled her forehead. "What's so funny?"

Leslie turned to her friend, and revealed her phone screen. "Sorry, Marissa, but I couldn't help it," she laughed again as Marissa's jaw dropped at the video being shown before her of her getting her ass slapped and her expression filling the screen. "Your face was just too funny!"

"You do know," she contested deliberately, slowly, "that's practically a porn video." Marissa challenged her friend with a smirk of her own. Leslie only winked at her.

"And you know it doesn't really count if you're not naked or having sex or anything, right?"

Marissa sighed as another slap resounded behind her and she held back a wince. She knew what she was walking into with that one, but it was worth a shot. Suddenly the sound of an unbuckled belt followed, along with the loosening of her pants.

His head was a haywire shower of emotions as Boris unbuckled Marissa's jeans and snagged them down with enough velocity to power through a closing tunnel.

"Ouch," Marissa echoed above, shifting weight from one leg to the other.

Back 90 degrees, however, Boris was too busy being fixated on the magical sight before him to care for the increasingly weird, bizarrely accommodating set of circumstances around him.

And that sight was a fresh, living, clean, round bubble butt.

Holy shit, he practically danced, as did his dick. Holy shit, I haven't seen a real live ass this close in decades! And gotdamn this one's fine!

Without hesitation, he dove into it and waggled his face between the crack of her cheeks. Her flattering panties were tugged back and forth at the motion and he brought both hands up to squeeze her two butt globes as he did so. Then he briefly detached himself from her to stick out his tongue and give her ass a nice long lick.

Mmm, delicious.

Noting the wet sensation on the sheen of her ass, Marissa could have guessed what it was. She never had a guy lick her ass before. She shrugged. There was a first for everything.

Boris, meanwhile, was never one for downright ****, but at this rate he was quite frankly having the notion rattle his head. Looking upon the ass before him, he had the image of throwing her down as she cried out in agony and tearing through her vagina and cumming in this woman, making her his.

But in the same time, he liked to push things far, but not quite that far. It wasn't really about ethics, just the principle of the thing; when you lost self-control once it was hard to get it back again, and in this case, he was probably definitely going to get busted anytime soon, so he wanted to stay on his guard.

Luck, however, seemed to be on his side, as neither siren nor big heaving brother appeared before him. He pushed Marissa over, his two hands on her smoldering glutes, and she fell with a moderate yelp, pants around her shins.

"Ouch, that hurt," she mumbled to herself.

The cars continued to pass, no doubt horrifically watching the course of events as they played out. It was barely 5 in the afternoon, and these poor women were probably just as horrified to have their peaceful day out shopping turn into a scene straight out of a Lifetime movie. Off screen at least.

"Marissa!" Boris looked at Leslie and flopped on top of Marissa, then grinded his groin against her asscheeks. The stench of his old clothes and grungy spread through the air as Marissa turned her head. Amazingly, she wasn't crying, fuming, distraught, or even faux-pas in her display of iron will -- her behavior was one of utter placidity.

In fact, you could even argue it qualified as consent.

"Yes?"

"No, not you," he pointed, "her!"

She looked at Leslie then turned her head forward. "Oh, alright."

Pant.

Pant.

Concurrently, Boris circled his pelvis violently and gracelessly against the woman's stationary ass as she lay down on the ground, taking it with minimal resistance, as her shoulders and torso shook forward and backward from his motions. Her elbow rested against the pavement, cheek in hand. She looked into her bag and took a thin-layered blouse out from it. With an inquisitive once-over, she held it out in front of her and nodded approvingly.

"Oh yes, this'll look perfect tonight," she smiled.

Meanwhile, Leslie looked back at Boris with a scrunched expression.

"Leslie, I think you mean," clarified the other young woman with a smile. "The girl you're grinding your private area against right now is Marissa, actually, and man," she laughed again, as delicate as porcelain, "she's going to stink so bad after this!"

"YEeeES! Leslie! Messi! Whatever!" Boris grunted in pleasure. "Dress, off, now!"

"Fiine," Leslie said, moving her hands to her straps. But she was too slow for Boris, who grabbed her dress and pulled her to him until she fell on top of the two. Her breasts landed on Boris' shaggy face and the intake of sweetly applied perfume filled his nostrils with a special kind of joy.

"Whoops," she began to move, but Boris threw his hands on her breasts and kneaded them without shame, her nipples quickly hardening under his hands. "Oh, dang," she shivered a bit. "Easy there, cowboy!"

Boris ignored her as he felt his prick grow even harder at the sight of her pretty face. He decided then to take her head and stuff it into the crevice left between his groin and the ass against which it grinded. Marissa, meanwhile, was turning her purchase over in her hands, still idly assessing it as the two congregated on her butt.

"You two making love back there on my ass or what?" she asked. It sounded like a rhetorical question to Boris. What attracted him, instead, was the blinking price tag before him.

"Give me that!" Leaning over, he swiped the shirt from her hands. She didn't hold onto to it as tightly as he expected her to while he tucked it into his green jacket. "This wiii-iil b-be uusseeful!"

Marissa scoffed, her ass getting rolled like dough. "Who made you the boss around here, buddy? You can't even afford a place to live!"

"Mmmpphmm!" Suddenly, Leslie pushed her cheek through for her mouth to get just enough air to speak. "Marissa! Be nice!"

"Sorry," Marissa replied, hands in the air. "I'm just stressed out thinking about how I'm supposed to get my next outfit top now since that was the last one they had in stock and costed nearly 200 dollars."

Leslie shrugged. "Well, what can you do? Things happen, sometimes, you know."

"Yeah, you're right," her friend nodded, the languor returning as Leslie shifted her face back against Boris' pants-covered dick. "You know me, girl, I just get a bit tight when plans go wrong and whatnot."

Ohh shit this is hot, shit shit shiiit!! Boris felt himself being driven to the edge for the first time in a long time, and finally he pulled his pants down and let his hard, hairy horse of a cock burst free, slapping Leslie in the face with it. She merely touched her cheek and whipped up the precum that lingered there. It became too much for Boris, and with a spasm he pounded Marissa's two cheeks (and personal masturbating aide) with the palms of his hand and thrust his dick all over Leslie's face as cum poured out of it.