He stood between Clark and US 41; the street completely deserted, the highway empty, and smiled to him as he stared up at the growing dark. It was the 4th of July, and half the city of metal was huddled against the beaches, watching and waiting for the splendid display of fireworks, the carnival of America's independence. He could hear the small children begging for popcorn, and cotton candy that they would diligently stick to roof of mouth, corner of lip.

The smile lent itself an extra row of teeth to show, as he slipped between clouds and lost himself, sky gazing as he was. Though not searching for any fireworks, or man-made apparatus, his eyes lingered on the clouds and stroked each piece of cotton fluff until another came to view, and another, and another.

The wind moved between his legs, up his running shorts, through the space of thigh and penis. It rustled the bush of pubic hair, and slept up between his ass. His erection pressed out between the soft red and blue of his shorts, the head glistening with a dot of pearl. Hips began to sway in time with the moving clouds, and the fading sun. The beach, close to him, crashing against his head, and breaking off his kneecaps, leaving only the shin to hold up his aching body.

His hands, long and chubby where too much Marijuana had taken refuge, and bitten away the nail until a bit of crust, a thin slice of delicate harsh still probed out, took the substance that dribbled from his cock between middle finger and thumb. Rolling it against the edges of his finger, the small ephemeral life forms swimming deep inside of his pores and under the crust of nail. The crowd, the distant children seemed to roll with his creations, rolling against the night, the drops of sex.

His playing did not, however, go unnoticed. From across the street a man stood against a lamp post, head cocked, hands working something in his jeans as he stared at the runner standing in the middle of the street. The man noticed that the other was whispering something to himself, his lips crashing in time with the ocean throb, the cloud shuffle. His hips moving back against an invisible something that seemed to fill his shorts, and pinch at nipple and thick hair that stuck out from his loose shirt.

Instigating sexual activity was never a problem for the man against the post. He often would strike up tongue and cock in the backroom of a club; The Haven, The Roast, Meat Hook; all so familiar with his presence. Yet this strange man, who stood alone at the crossroad of 41 and Clark, and idly played with himself, alone, on the 4th of July took him back, and forced him to subconscious knee.

Trying to take control over his trembling body, his started forward across the road. The empty streets eerie against his footfall. And then... several steps... he was there. Gasping as he reached forward, his breath sweaty, his mind swimming, the blood rushing to his head, blotching his vision.

Smiling, the man on the road turned against the invisible hands to meet secret ones of flesh. And together they rocked against the night air. Back and forth, lips meeting to kiss. Tongue to flicker and dance. Happy among their beings, happy to be made and found together. Lairs of deception, years of shame and hiding unburdened against the clouds, the sea.

Man to man, the smile twitched as pieces of cloud detached from the running sky, the tilting earth taking more of a beating as the sky loosened. Teeth closing around his neck, the clavicle brushing against the blade of another bone. Spinning bones against their body until the boy, the runner, and the man, the beast began to crack against the night.

At first the Runner's back split open, tearing out muscle as red, and vein as blue as any American Flag, and discard any organs upon the pavement. The Beast then entered him, filling his body with arm and chest, moving the spine and pushing aside the muscle. His fingers filling out behind the Runner's, the nail growing thick again, the finger longer and thinner. Then the Beast let loose a roar as in the background music began to play, signaling the beginning of the American Carnival.

The Beast's phallic took pleasure inside of the Runner's anus, feeling the flesh squeeze against his member. His chin resting against the neck, his body slowly coming together, wrapping around, letting inside, pulsating over and pulsating again as ribbons of blood erupted from around the Runner's eyes, mucus from his nose, and like wrapping a present, dug inside the back of the Beast's skull to bring him inside.

And somewhere near the beach the smell of fresh jizz met the soft nose of some tender girl, who sat with a ribbon in her hair, upon her father's shoulders and giggled loudly with cotton candy for breath, as the fireworks began Red, White, and often Blue against the night sky.

[End]