Minnesota Strip: A Tale of Times Square Queers excerpt by Mykola Dementiuk

Minnesota Strip: A Tale of Times Square Queers is another scorching story of gender-bending, sex, and the quest for freedom from the Lambda Award winning MYKOLA DEMENTIUK at his best. Turning tricks can be a very dangerous profession especially when you're a male crossdresser trying to come on to guys as a hooking female. Your outward appearance may be sweet and feminine but the masculine reality can get your face bashed in, if not something a lot worse. And passing as a female, well, very hard to do yet Connie was made for just that. Being a small framed boy at the age of nineteen and getting all dressed up she could easily pass as a hard-on inducer on the Chicago streets, the men going after her as much as she led them on. Her pretence at being naive and innocent, almost under age and pleading, "But sir, I have never sucked one before, I might do it wrong," only led her to be prodded to her knees and give them a blow-job, pretending to be tricked into doing just that for a few dollars but which was her original intent anyway, the men satisfied as they'd zipper up and scurry off while Connie would just get up and go on to the next unsuspecting customer...

Minnesota Strip: A Tale of Times Square Queers
Sizzler Editions

Excerpt:

Connie felt very unsure about her cock and balls bulging at the left of her crotch, it was as if something had appeared which had never been there before. It was always so natural to be tucking and holding it in that she even grew to walk slightly funny, actually prancing about with her thighs close together that she stepped almost virginal like, still untouched and un-smeared, exactly like a pure virgin girl would be doing, which was her point anyway, to be pure and innocent. But this evening Connie had let go of her pretenses and fakery, no longer was she a fraud or a sham, pretending to be something else. No sir, what you see is what you get, and that includes a big cock as well!

And as she walked with Toni she knew that her cock and balls weren’t just puffing out but now stood erectly in her pants bulging before her; it was evident what she had there, a nice thick hard-on. Faces grinned and leered, some embittered and disgusted, others just gaping open mouthed and drooling. Toni walked beside Connie, her own penile bulge not as big or evident but both looking so very eager and hungry, as if impatient to get to their destination, Eight Avenue, or as common usage would have it at the time, the Minnesota Strip.

The term was first used by the Minneapolis police department under some vague notion that East Coast prostitutes were coming from the Midwest, namely Minnesota. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent investigating this idea that it became a common term among young runaways headed for the Big Apple, New York City and in trying for their fortune, which never got any further than walking the streets or shacking up in cheap hotel rooms.

Though Connie and Toni were indeed from the Midwest there was no evidence that girls were actually from Minneapolis but term had become somewhat easy for them to use as in the pick up line, “Where you from, cutie?” “Minnesota,” she’d answer, chewing her gum and look around, “Ten bucks, mister, take it or leave it” and they’d end up in a cheap hotel room dive. In the same way that some years ago Hippies and the Love Generation were all headed for San Francisco, the Minneapolis generation all seemed to come from Minnesota, no matter where they were from. No difference that they ran away from Tucson, or Baton Rouge, or Dayton, or Newark, in the end the runaways found themselves as having gone on the road from one place, Minnesota.

Of course the majority of the street hookers were females yet there were also many queer boys, picking up the signs of the times, Gay Rights and all, who wore dresses with makeup that at that young age they were in, their early teen years, it was easy to misrepresent their sexuality, male or female. They looked ideal to be a perfect tryst for one or the other; and along the Minnesota Strip, there were hundreds of thousands of takers, each one jumping at a cunt or a cock for a few bucks then going on their way. Easy come, easy go.

Connie and Toni went through busy Forty Second Street, past the various movie houses on each side of the street, with sexy bookshops and peep show booths along the way. Of course Connie was new to the area but very eager to plunge into whatever awaited her.

“This is it, sister,” said Toni, “the beautiful Minnesota Strip,” and she flicked her cigarette to the street and opened up a pack of gum, inserting one in her weaving smacking lips. “That there is Port Authority bus station,” she gestured to a large building on Forty First Street, “That’s where the girls come in thinking they’ll be right away models or actresses, ha!” she sneered and spat out the gum immediately sucking up another one, “that’s where I got in from Kansas myself,” and he shook her head. “Funny you came on a train,” and she looked at Connie. “Oh well,” she shrugged, “whatever, as long as you’re here, that’s important,” and she winked, and still holding on to Connie led her up the avenue.

Bars and clubs and more sexy movie houses were on the avenue with a hotel entrance at nearly every corner that Connie was amazed at how much space there was to be rented out for an hour or two, but preferably a lot less then that. Yet girls hovered around many doorways, or down various side streets, waiting customers for a little time that Connie began to feel embarrassed and ashamed that her penis was so evident at her crotch when all around there were plain but sexy little girls, all there for the taking by hard men. Boys or girls, what difference did it make anyway?

But she and Toni walked on ahead, smirking at men until they came to Forty Seventh Street, where two black hookers stood on the corner talking trash.

“Miss Jackie, what makes you think he’s in love with you?” Connie heard and looked up; it was an obvious man’s voice but clad in a ladies wig on her head with a short micro skirt around her.

“Pearl, you bitch,” the other answered, also in a deep man’s voice, “its love, I know it is.”

Toni led Connie right to them.

“Jackie, Pearl, this is Connie; she’s new here, first time on the Strip.”

The two transvestites looked at Connie.

“Oh my,” said Miss Jackie, immediately reaching out for Connie’s stiff erection, “it’s wonderful to meet you, sweetie,” and she blew her a kiss while groping her crotch for the stiffened penis.

Connie didn’t resist; the clear visibility of her cock, each step she had taken here, the gentle rubbing of the hard muscle against her jeans only added to the sexual lust and need until it erupted in her uncontrolled ejaculation. Less than fifteen seconds of pawing by Miss Jackie and Connie had cum again.

“Jackie, you sissy cunt,” Connie heard, “Can’t you see the girl is a-cumin’ and a thick cum at that?” as Jackie nodded her head and firmly continued pawing Connie off through her pants.

Connie fluttered her eyeballs and gazed through a daze at the trio before her; they stood hungrily looking at her and breathing open mouthed, Jackie still rubbing her cock until she felt moisture on her fingers. She picked them up to her face and licked whatever she could get.

“Oh, glory,” squealed Jackie, “never before had I gotten a dose of scum so easily and right here on the Minnesota Strip, ideal honey, you’re ideal!”

Connie felt very calm and contented, at peace with what she was happening, showing off her crammed cock and balls and satisfied with what was happening. Ever since she stood on the subway beginning to feel that heady sensation of arousal building and boiling in her she knew it would be only a matter of time before she erupted but the openness of Jackie’s stroking her, in front of people on the wide street, bringing her ecstatic pleasure; this was it, she knew, a hand-job where and whenever she wanted it or that which another was willing to perform, fucking sex right on the street. Hallelujah!

She tottered but caught her balance, Jackie’s arm around her.

“Connie, you alright?” It was Toni, standing right before her as Jackie held her and resumed groping her between the legs. Eyeballs drooled after what they were seeing but Connie didn’t care; this is what she always wanted, to be observed by others, to be putting on a show for them, to be the star attraction, that was the entire point of life, wasn’t it?

But as if coming to, she pushed Jackie’s hand off and tried lighting a cigarette and froze open-mouthed. In the crowd, looking right at her stood unshaven and wasted Tubby, Mr. Honey, who had lost weight, ten, fifteen pounds, and it looked as if he was shriveling away for no apparent reason.

Yet the old anger came back to Connie; after all he had abandoned her on the subway and now appeared out of the blue? No way! she sighed but raised her voice, “Hey, Honey, you asshole!” dropping to her knees and reaching under Jackie’s short skirt, “How’d you like this?” and she tried bringing Jackie’s dick out but Jackie squealed and pushed Connie off; Connie fell from her knees and landed right on her ass.

“Ouch, aw damn, my fucking ass!” she yelped, trying to straighten herself up. “That fucking hurts!”

“You don’t have to be stupid about it,” Jackie bitterly spat at her, “Just because you’re a street whore doesn’t mean you do it with anybody out on the street. Have some sense about you girl,” she said, straightening out her skirt and aligning it on her body, “Get some money first,” and she turned and disappeared on the Minnesota Strip.

But Toni leaned down and offered to help Connie to her feet, shaking her head but still holding out a hand to her. Connie almost took it but another hand presented itself, it was the hand of Mr. Honey. Connie lowered her eyes and grabbed it instead, getting to her feet.

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