thedeep
05-20-2005, 04:27 PM
When God Closes a Door, He Opens a Gloryhole
by Mr. Silk (mistersilk@gmail.com)
***
This is the true story of how I waited out a winter
storm. My plans were to meet a fuck-buddy so she and I
could experiment anal sex. That didn't work out, but
the night was far from boring. (MM, exh, oral, mast,
ghole)
***
Part I: The Back Room
It's been snowing heavily in many places in the
country, and Wednesday night, the city got blanketed in
a sheet of ice that made driving treacherous. There
were numerous accidents, due largely to drivers acting
like assholes. Several roads got closed down.
Myself, I made my way through town fairly smoothly. H
wasn't so lucky. I kept checking on her progress by
cell phone. As I made my way across town, she made it
just a couple of miles. She was stuck on the highway,
and she remained stuck for 5 and 1/2 hours. Finally, we
figured that we would have to postpone.
Although we wouldn't get to experiment with ass-play
that night, I dropped in to an adult store to see what
sort of toys were available, and what they cost. This
store didn't have much to offer, but I got some ideas.
Now, I wasn't feeling particularly horny. I had been
focusing my attention so much on the roads, that I
wasn't really bothered by missing a night of wild
fucking. But while I was at the porn shop, I thought I
might as well take a little peek at the booths in the
back. I mean, why not?
A little background on my relationship with these
things. I first discovered them when I was 18 and
visiting Portland, OR for the summer. I was taking
classes in Japanese there, and I was very isolated,
away from family, friends, and familiarity. But, for
the first time, I was legally of age to view erotic
materials. So, for the first time, I sought out the
adult stores.
Portland is FULL of them. I don't know why. But it
seemed that you couldn't go a quarter mile downtown
without going past one. I turned into the first one
that I found, one with a painted devil on the side,
clutching his erect "tail."
Goddamn, I was so nervous. It was that intense,
physical nervousness. It felt like my heart was up in
my throat, and I could feel it pounding in my skull,
sending hot blood into my cheeks. Meanwhile my toes and
fingers were could. A sick, squishy nausea squirmed in
my stomach.
See, I had been sneaking peeks at dirty magazines and
dirty movies for years, ever since I was 7. Since age
11 I had developed the skills of a ninja by practicing
breaking into my parents' locked stash. I signed the
"verification" that I was an adult to acquire numerous
catalogs and a couple of videos. But, always, always, I
had to be careful not to be caught. I was caught a
couple of times, and those were not good.
So, as I entered that haven of filth, I could not shake
the feeling that I was not supposed to be there, and as
soon as someone saw me I would be thrown out and given
a stern talking-to. I was so focused on not being
noticed, that I wasn't really able to take in my
surroundings. They were a blur of plastic wrapped
photographs on shelves. I didn't want to linger on any
one too long. And so, I rapidly made my way through the
store.
When I came to the back room, I ducked in there really
just to get away. There were the booths, lined up in
rows with little lights on the outside. Some on, most
off. They were gray little closets. And I jumped into
one just to get away and to catch my breath.
Once inside, I had a minute to settle down. I started
to take note of the interior. In front of me was a
blank screen. Beside it, there was a slot to accept
coins, and a large, square button. It just so happened
that I had a couple quarters in my pocket. And,
thinking "Why not?" I popped them in.
As the screen lit up, I suddenly understood what the
room was, and I was amazed. As I pressed the large
button, I was offered channel after channel of hardcore
porn. They had everything. I could jump from an orgy,
to anal sex, to two girls experiencing lesbian sex for
the first time.
And I was all by myself. Secluded... Private... And
hard and ready as a rocket. These little rooms, they
couldn't have designed them for... I mean, could I do
it here? In a public place?
And again, "Why not?" was the rule. Fueled by fear and
frustration and novelty, I gave myself a chillingly
wonderful orgasm. After a moment, I zipped up, and made
a beeline for the door.
That summer I spent a lot of time and money in those
places. I saw a lot of things I never thought I would
see. There were movies of animal sex. There were movies
of gay sex. At some stores, the channels were over 50%
gay. Those were often scarier than the other stores,
because they tended to be filled with men who lurked in
the backroom. They didn't seem to be visiting the
booths, just waiting. Waiting for what? They hunched
their shoulders like vultures, and when the looked at
me, I quickly looked away from their hungry,
questioning gaze.
In the years since, I've noticed that all back rooms
have such men in some numbers. I just pushed past them
now, avoiding eye contact. I do my business, and I go
on.
Part II: Just a Taste
This was the plan last Wednesday. Business as usual. A
little amusement before hitting the icy roads again.
There was nothing particularly special in the booth
that night. The films were mostly gay, some blacks on
blondes, a threesome. I found a couple of straight
films to switch between, and started my business.
It really is not bullshit what they say about a man's
penis thinking for him. "God only gave a man enough
blood to work one of his brains at a time, and if the
lower one is active, you can forget about the upper
one." And anyway, as your pulse begins to race, and
your mind begins to burn with desire, you become open
to a lot more things. The nearer you reach orgasm, the
greater the power of "Why not?" to open the realms of
all sorts of kinks.
I do not know if this was the first time that a nudged
its way towards my booth. I've been frequenting these
things for a decade, so I'm betting it's happened
before in that time. What was different this time was
that I saw it. I saw it because I was staring at that
hole. As some sexy vixen had her ass and pussy filled
by two Latino cocks, I had begun to watch the glory
hole. I watched and I wondered. What would I do? What
could I do? What are my limits? Would I be repulsed?
Would I be aroused? And in the heat of my surging
passion, these questions melted out of my intellect.
Their draw fell out of the realm of words and coalesced
into a single driving urge, and I felt something that I
had never been aware of before. My hunger to know
became a hunger for cock.
And so I stared at that hole. Wondering if a dick would
appear. Willing a dick to appear. I focused my mind
upon it like a conjurer charming a snake out of a hole.
And appear, it did.
I heard the door of the booth beside me snap shut.
There was the sound of coins in the slot, and then a
blue light from the hole as the TV came on. All of this
was fairly normal. The click of a belt on buckling.
Pants hitting the floor. And then a shadow flickered
across the blue. My eyes clung to that shadow as it
wavered again, and then held, blocking all light from
the screen. In it's place, nestled in the darkness, was
a swatch of shadowed pink.
This was it. Time to learn something new about myself.
I reached out to it, brushing the skin with my
fingertip. The reaction was immediate. In one, smooth
stroke, a stiff, blood-gorged cock slid its full length
into my booth.
It was huge. Definitely bigger than my own, and I fell
to my knees before the monstrosity. It was so well-
sculpted that I thought that it might be no flesh and
blood penis, but a silicone dildo. I only held that
thought for a second, because too quickly I wrapped my
lips around it, swallowing the bulging crown into my
curious mouth. It swelled in my cheeks and filled me
down to the throat. And as I rolled my tongue against
it, it grew even more rigid.
Immediately I made several observations, comparing this
experience to what I have heard girls say. First, there
was nothing unpleasant about the taste or smell of it.
I would not expect it in a place like that, but he was
perfectly clean and odor-free (adding to my initial
question of it being real or not).
In fact, as I lapped at the tip, I tasted a drop of
precum and found that it was really quite nice. Salty-
sweet. But gagging was definitely an issue, and as I
fucked him with my mouth I cursed myself for not being
able to take him deeper, harder, giving him the
satisfaction of my throat.
I won't pretend this was the first time I've had a dick
in my mouth. As a child, I remember experimenting with
friends at sleep-overs. Two guys crawl in bed together
just to see what it's like. One pretends to be the
woman. As I entered puberty, every sleepover developed
into a 5-boy circle-jerk at some point. We never
touched each other, but didn't find anything weird
about it.
Then at 15 I had a night with a friend where we wanted
to find out if we were completely straight or not. It
was awkward and a contributing factor to the end of our
friendship. That night had made up my mind for me. I
was only into girls. And I did not entertain any such
thoughts for over 10 years.
The point is that I really had no sense of technique as
I slurped on this monster. I wanted to please though. I
wanted to be good. I wanted to put all of my porn
observations to task and suck this stranger into
oblivion. Besides, if I was only going to suck one cock
in my life, it had better be a good one.
As I bathed him with my mouth, I moved my fingers
around him, adding light-fisted jerk to my stroke. I
drew back along the shaft, isolating the head, and
slashing at it with my tongue like it was H's clitoris.
This provoked an intense reaction, and as he became
even more hard, his cock began to arc skyward, and the
ridge of his flesh became more pronounced. Recalling
the movies I've seen, thinking of how I've always
wanted to be sucked, I crouched even lower and lapped
up and down the underside of his shaft, where the flesh
is tender and sensitive.
It was amazing. I had this strange toy to play with. It
was all mine, and though I fumbled in my inexperience,
I had command over it.
Spitting into my hand, I wrapped my fist around the
head of his dick and gave him several stiff thrusts,
from the glands down to the base. And then I took him
into my mouth once more, and I as did I suck him hard,
sucked the head of his dick with hicky-giving
intensity.
Suddenly he withdrew. I was stunned. What happened? Did
he want more? Did he want to come in and join me? Did
he want to suck me now? As ready as I was to suck a
dick, I didn't think I could face the man attached to
it.
I peeked in the hole. I saw his legs shaking as he
jerked himself. I poked my finger into the hole to get
his attention. Did I do something wrong? Maybe my teeth
scraped him? Was I sucking to hard.
Then I heard his cell phone ring, and with Oscar-worthy
calm, he answered. With perfect ease he talked about
the ice and the roads as he pulled up his pants and
disappeared from my view. Leaving me alone. And
uncertain.
Part III: Friend in Need
Well, I was certain of one thing though. I hadn't cum
yet. And that needed to be taken care of. I took a
moment for myself, but my mind was elsewhere. What had
I just done? What did it mean? Finishing quickly, I too
zipped up and turned to face the door. I had just
sucked a man's dick in a public place.
This is what George Michael got arrested for. And would
he be out there? Would he be waiting for me? Wanting
more? Gluing my eyes to the floor, I shoulder the door
open, and trudged straight for the exit, hands in my
pockets.
My keys were in my hand, and I was ready to make my
escape, when I heard a voice behind me.
"Excuse me?"
I pretended not to hear.
"Sir? Excuse me, sir?"
Goddamn it. I turned, and there was a man behind be,
coming my way from the store. He looked to be in his
late 30s. Not a bad looking guy. Blue collar. Wearing a
jean jacket and a pair of Levi's. Seemed as straight
and normal as any guy who works with his hands.
Probably a mechanic.
I don't remember what pleasantries were exchanged, but
soon he just came right out with it. "Could you watch
me masturbate?"
So this was him. I was finally face-to-face with the
man I had just been face-to-cock with.
"I'm sorry. I have to get home."
"Yeah, I have to get home too. I just really need to
get off." I had never been addressed in that tone
before. Not for someone asking for sex. He wanted me
like a panhandler wants your spare change. He needed me
like a junkie needed a fix.
No woman approaches a man for sex like that -- love
maybe, but not sex. But in that moment I realized that
every man approaches a woman for sex with just that
desperation. We need it. And you have it. We love women
for their company. We admire women for their beauty.
But when it comes to sex, it has very little to do with
you, with who you are or how you look, and has a whole
lot more to do with this unholy craving that drives us
ceaselessly. And when we lie, spent and thankful in
your arms, it is because you have given us release from
the drive.
I bet most of the men who meet other men at these
places don't think of themselves as gay, and maybe not
even bi. I'm betting many of them have girlfriends and
wives and children. They don't think of these meetings
as being part of who they are. It's just something they
do. It is a way that they satisfy a craving, and that
craving feels alien to them, to their lives.
So, I stood there as a grown man begged me to watch him
jerk off. Another guy would have easily said, "No." And
many more would have knocked him out. But me, I'm a
nice guy, fatally nice, you know. And I look at his
face and I think, "I know what that's like. I know what
that need is, how it burns. How many times have I ached
for a helping hand too? Besides, he just wants me to
watch. No problem."
"Okay." I shrugged. "Where?"
"Maybe in a car? Or we can go back inside?"
"Inside." I didn't want to let him into my car, and I
didn't want to risk his. I'm nice but not completely
oblivious.
Of course, we looked entirely conspicuous returning
together. I had clearly made my exit, and there I was
popping in right behind him. He entered the back
through the door on the left. I entered on the right.
We met in the hallway and he asked where next? It was
strange to be in control of this encounter.
We wouldn't fit together in a booth, not in any
position I was comfortable with. So, I had him sit in
from of the screen with the door open so I could see. I
stood with my coat on and my hands in my pockets as he
pushed a couple coins in the wall and lowered his pants
and underwear.
I wanted him to choose a movie with a girl in it. That
would maybe turn me on a bit and ease my transition
into this next level of kink. No such luck. He chose a
movie that showed a young, blonde man alone in his
bedroom. The kid (because I'm finally old enough to
call a 20 year-old kid) was looking at a magazine and
jerking off, making sure the camera got plenty of shots
of his balls and asshole as he wriggled and rolled
along the carpeted floor.
I was the man masturbate. He watched the boy. The boy
watched his magazine.
"Could you touch it for me?" I wasn't surprised, of
course. And I had come this far. A hand is not so
intimate as a mouth. So I reached down and took hold of
him. He was not quite so hard, not quite so large, but
I was guessing the phone had interrupted him, and
nothing kills an erection like almost getting caught.
So I gave him a couple dry strokes, and then spit in my
hand for lube. He liked that.
"Can I touch you as you're touching me?"
"Sure." I spread my legs a little and let him fondle
the front of my pants. He didn't stroke me or squeeze
me, and I didn't get hard from any of this. It was more
like the feel of my balls made him more secure, like a
baby's blanket.
"Did you cum?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Did he cum for you?"
My stroke paused. "No." And then I realized why this
cock felt different. It was different. This guy was
entirely new.
How did he know? Did the other one tell him? Did he
point me out as being "accommodating?"
After living what I had thought of as being a normal,
if open-minded heterosexual life for 28 years, in one
night I tripled my number of adult gay partners
(counting that night when I was 15).
Soon, he took my hand from him, and replaced it with
his own. A couple of stiff jerks, and he drooled out a
thick, white stream of cum onto the floor. And for a
moment, the part of my mind that has been a student of
porn wondered if I should reach out to him, take a
fingerfull of his jizz and bring it to my mouth like a
good little cocksucker. Just to give him a little
thrill. But I had already been adventurous enough.
As I left, I gave him a manly slap on the shoulder.
"Well, good night. Be careful out on those roads." And
I slid out before he was done zipping up his fly.
But on the way out, I passed a sign that read:
Please, no "cruising" in the video aisles. Customers
have complained about this, and you will be asked to
leave.
END
:jo
by Mr. Silk (mistersilk@gmail.com)
***
This is the true story of how I waited out a winter
storm. My plans were to meet a fuck-buddy so she and I
could experiment anal sex. That didn't work out, but
the night was far from boring. (MM, exh, oral, mast,
ghole)
***
Part I: The Back Room
It's been snowing heavily in many places in the
country, and Wednesday night, the city got blanketed in
a sheet of ice that made driving treacherous. There
were numerous accidents, due largely to drivers acting
like assholes. Several roads got closed down.
Myself, I made my way through town fairly smoothly. H
wasn't so lucky. I kept checking on her progress by
cell phone. As I made my way across town, she made it
just a couple of miles. She was stuck on the highway,
and she remained stuck for 5 and 1/2 hours. Finally, we
figured that we would have to postpone.
Although we wouldn't get to experiment with ass-play
that night, I dropped in to an adult store to see what
sort of toys were available, and what they cost. This
store didn't have much to offer, but I got some ideas.
Now, I wasn't feeling particularly horny. I had been
focusing my attention so much on the roads, that I
wasn't really bothered by missing a night of wild
fucking. But while I was at the porn shop, I thought I
might as well take a little peek at the booths in the
back. I mean, why not?
A little background on my relationship with these
things. I first discovered them when I was 18 and
visiting Portland, OR for the summer. I was taking
classes in Japanese there, and I was very isolated,
away from family, friends, and familiarity. But, for
the first time, I was legally of age to view erotic
materials. So, for the first time, I sought out the
adult stores.
Portland is FULL of them. I don't know why. But it
seemed that you couldn't go a quarter mile downtown
without going past one. I turned into the first one
that I found, one with a painted devil on the side,
clutching his erect "tail."
Goddamn, I was so nervous. It was that intense,
physical nervousness. It felt like my heart was up in
my throat, and I could feel it pounding in my skull,
sending hot blood into my cheeks. Meanwhile my toes and
fingers were could. A sick, squishy nausea squirmed in
my stomach.
See, I had been sneaking peeks at dirty magazines and
dirty movies for years, ever since I was 7. Since age
11 I had developed the skills of a ninja by practicing
breaking into my parents' locked stash. I signed the
"verification" that I was an adult to acquire numerous
catalogs and a couple of videos. But, always, always, I
had to be careful not to be caught. I was caught a
couple of times, and those were not good.
So, as I entered that haven of filth, I could not shake
the feeling that I was not supposed to be there, and as
soon as someone saw me I would be thrown out and given
a stern talking-to. I was so focused on not being
noticed, that I wasn't really able to take in my
surroundings. They were a blur of plastic wrapped
photographs on shelves. I didn't want to linger on any
one too long. And so, I rapidly made my way through the
store.
When I came to the back room, I ducked in there really
just to get away. There were the booths, lined up in
rows with little lights on the outside. Some on, most
off. They were gray little closets. And I jumped into
one just to get away and to catch my breath.
Once inside, I had a minute to settle down. I started
to take note of the interior. In front of me was a
blank screen. Beside it, there was a slot to accept
coins, and a large, square button. It just so happened
that I had a couple quarters in my pocket. And,
thinking "Why not?" I popped them in.
As the screen lit up, I suddenly understood what the
room was, and I was amazed. As I pressed the large
button, I was offered channel after channel of hardcore
porn. They had everything. I could jump from an orgy,
to anal sex, to two girls experiencing lesbian sex for
the first time.
And I was all by myself. Secluded... Private... And
hard and ready as a rocket. These little rooms, they
couldn't have designed them for... I mean, could I do
it here? In a public place?
And again, "Why not?" was the rule. Fueled by fear and
frustration and novelty, I gave myself a chillingly
wonderful orgasm. After a moment, I zipped up, and made
a beeline for the door.
That summer I spent a lot of time and money in those
places. I saw a lot of things I never thought I would
see. There were movies of animal sex. There were movies
of gay sex. At some stores, the channels were over 50%
gay. Those were often scarier than the other stores,
because they tended to be filled with men who lurked in
the backroom. They didn't seem to be visiting the
booths, just waiting. Waiting for what? They hunched
their shoulders like vultures, and when the looked at
me, I quickly looked away from their hungry,
questioning gaze.
In the years since, I've noticed that all back rooms
have such men in some numbers. I just pushed past them
now, avoiding eye contact. I do my business, and I go
on.
Part II: Just a Taste
This was the plan last Wednesday. Business as usual. A
little amusement before hitting the icy roads again.
There was nothing particularly special in the booth
that night. The films were mostly gay, some blacks on
blondes, a threesome. I found a couple of straight
films to switch between, and started my business.
It really is not bullshit what they say about a man's
penis thinking for him. "God only gave a man enough
blood to work one of his brains at a time, and if the
lower one is active, you can forget about the upper
one." And anyway, as your pulse begins to race, and
your mind begins to burn with desire, you become open
to a lot more things. The nearer you reach orgasm, the
greater the power of "Why not?" to open the realms of
all sorts of kinks.
I do not know if this was the first time that a nudged
its way towards my booth. I've been frequenting these
things for a decade, so I'm betting it's happened
before in that time. What was different this time was
that I saw it. I saw it because I was staring at that
hole. As some sexy vixen had her ass and pussy filled
by two Latino cocks, I had begun to watch the glory
hole. I watched and I wondered. What would I do? What
could I do? What are my limits? Would I be repulsed?
Would I be aroused? And in the heat of my surging
passion, these questions melted out of my intellect.
Their draw fell out of the realm of words and coalesced
into a single driving urge, and I felt something that I
had never been aware of before. My hunger to know
became a hunger for cock.
And so I stared at that hole. Wondering if a dick would
appear. Willing a dick to appear. I focused my mind
upon it like a conjurer charming a snake out of a hole.
And appear, it did.
I heard the door of the booth beside me snap shut.
There was the sound of coins in the slot, and then a
blue light from the hole as the TV came on. All of this
was fairly normal. The click of a belt on buckling.
Pants hitting the floor. And then a shadow flickered
across the blue. My eyes clung to that shadow as it
wavered again, and then held, blocking all light from
the screen. In it's place, nestled in the darkness, was
a swatch of shadowed pink.
This was it. Time to learn something new about myself.
I reached out to it, brushing the skin with my
fingertip. The reaction was immediate. In one, smooth
stroke, a stiff, blood-gorged cock slid its full length
into my booth.
It was huge. Definitely bigger than my own, and I fell
to my knees before the monstrosity. It was so well-
sculpted that I thought that it might be no flesh and
blood penis, but a silicone dildo. I only held that
thought for a second, because too quickly I wrapped my
lips around it, swallowing the bulging crown into my
curious mouth. It swelled in my cheeks and filled me
down to the throat. And as I rolled my tongue against
it, it grew even more rigid.
Immediately I made several observations, comparing this
experience to what I have heard girls say. First, there
was nothing unpleasant about the taste or smell of it.
I would not expect it in a place like that, but he was
perfectly clean and odor-free (adding to my initial
question of it being real or not).
In fact, as I lapped at the tip, I tasted a drop of
precum and found that it was really quite nice. Salty-
sweet. But gagging was definitely an issue, and as I
fucked him with my mouth I cursed myself for not being
able to take him deeper, harder, giving him the
satisfaction of my throat.
I won't pretend this was the first time I've had a dick
in my mouth. As a child, I remember experimenting with
friends at sleep-overs. Two guys crawl in bed together
just to see what it's like. One pretends to be the
woman. As I entered puberty, every sleepover developed
into a 5-boy circle-jerk at some point. We never
touched each other, but didn't find anything weird
about it.
Then at 15 I had a night with a friend where we wanted
to find out if we were completely straight or not. It
was awkward and a contributing factor to the end of our
friendship. That night had made up my mind for me. I
was only into girls. And I did not entertain any such
thoughts for over 10 years.
The point is that I really had no sense of technique as
I slurped on this monster. I wanted to please though. I
wanted to be good. I wanted to put all of my porn
observations to task and suck this stranger into
oblivion. Besides, if I was only going to suck one cock
in my life, it had better be a good one.
As I bathed him with my mouth, I moved my fingers
around him, adding light-fisted jerk to my stroke. I
drew back along the shaft, isolating the head, and
slashing at it with my tongue like it was H's clitoris.
This provoked an intense reaction, and as he became
even more hard, his cock began to arc skyward, and the
ridge of his flesh became more pronounced. Recalling
the movies I've seen, thinking of how I've always
wanted to be sucked, I crouched even lower and lapped
up and down the underside of his shaft, where the flesh
is tender and sensitive.
It was amazing. I had this strange toy to play with. It
was all mine, and though I fumbled in my inexperience,
I had command over it.
Spitting into my hand, I wrapped my fist around the
head of his dick and gave him several stiff thrusts,
from the glands down to the base. And then I took him
into my mouth once more, and I as did I suck him hard,
sucked the head of his dick with hicky-giving
intensity.
Suddenly he withdrew. I was stunned. What happened? Did
he want more? Did he want to come in and join me? Did
he want to suck me now? As ready as I was to suck a
dick, I didn't think I could face the man attached to
it.
I peeked in the hole. I saw his legs shaking as he
jerked himself. I poked my finger into the hole to get
his attention. Did I do something wrong? Maybe my teeth
scraped him? Was I sucking to hard.
Then I heard his cell phone ring, and with Oscar-worthy
calm, he answered. With perfect ease he talked about
the ice and the roads as he pulled up his pants and
disappeared from my view. Leaving me alone. And
uncertain.
Part III: Friend in Need
Well, I was certain of one thing though. I hadn't cum
yet. And that needed to be taken care of. I took a
moment for myself, but my mind was elsewhere. What had
I just done? What did it mean? Finishing quickly, I too
zipped up and turned to face the door. I had just
sucked a man's dick in a public place.
This is what George Michael got arrested for. And would
he be out there? Would he be waiting for me? Wanting
more? Gluing my eyes to the floor, I shoulder the door
open, and trudged straight for the exit, hands in my
pockets.
My keys were in my hand, and I was ready to make my
escape, when I heard a voice behind me.
"Excuse me?"
I pretended not to hear.
"Sir? Excuse me, sir?"
Goddamn it. I turned, and there was a man behind be,
coming my way from the store. He looked to be in his
late 30s. Not a bad looking guy. Blue collar. Wearing a
jean jacket and a pair of Levi's. Seemed as straight
and normal as any guy who works with his hands.
Probably a mechanic.
I don't remember what pleasantries were exchanged, but
soon he just came right out with it. "Could you watch
me masturbate?"
So this was him. I was finally face-to-face with the
man I had just been face-to-cock with.
"I'm sorry. I have to get home."
"Yeah, I have to get home too. I just really need to
get off." I had never been addressed in that tone
before. Not for someone asking for sex. He wanted me
like a panhandler wants your spare change. He needed me
like a junkie needed a fix.
No woman approaches a man for sex like that -- love
maybe, but not sex. But in that moment I realized that
every man approaches a woman for sex with just that
desperation. We need it. And you have it. We love women
for their company. We admire women for their beauty.
But when it comes to sex, it has very little to do with
you, with who you are or how you look, and has a whole
lot more to do with this unholy craving that drives us
ceaselessly. And when we lie, spent and thankful in
your arms, it is because you have given us release from
the drive.
I bet most of the men who meet other men at these
places don't think of themselves as gay, and maybe not
even bi. I'm betting many of them have girlfriends and
wives and children. They don't think of these meetings
as being part of who they are. It's just something they
do. It is a way that they satisfy a craving, and that
craving feels alien to them, to their lives.
So, I stood there as a grown man begged me to watch him
jerk off. Another guy would have easily said, "No." And
many more would have knocked him out. But me, I'm a
nice guy, fatally nice, you know. And I look at his
face and I think, "I know what that's like. I know what
that need is, how it burns. How many times have I ached
for a helping hand too? Besides, he just wants me to
watch. No problem."
"Okay." I shrugged. "Where?"
"Maybe in a car? Or we can go back inside?"
"Inside." I didn't want to let him into my car, and I
didn't want to risk his. I'm nice but not completely
oblivious.
Of course, we looked entirely conspicuous returning
together. I had clearly made my exit, and there I was
popping in right behind him. He entered the back
through the door on the left. I entered on the right.
We met in the hallway and he asked where next? It was
strange to be in control of this encounter.
We wouldn't fit together in a booth, not in any
position I was comfortable with. So, I had him sit in
from of the screen with the door open so I could see. I
stood with my coat on and my hands in my pockets as he
pushed a couple coins in the wall and lowered his pants
and underwear.
I wanted him to choose a movie with a girl in it. That
would maybe turn me on a bit and ease my transition
into this next level of kink. No such luck. He chose a
movie that showed a young, blonde man alone in his
bedroom. The kid (because I'm finally old enough to
call a 20 year-old kid) was looking at a magazine and
jerking off, making sure the camera got plenty of shots
of his balls and asshole as he wriggled and rolled
along the carpeted floor.
I was the man masturbate. He watched the boy. The boy
watched his magazine.
"Could you touch it for me?" I wasn't surprised, of
course. And I had come this far. A hand is not so
intimate as a mouth. So I reached down and took hold of
him. He was not quite so hard, not quite so large, but
I was guessing the phone had interrupted him, and
nothing kills an erection like almost getting caught.
So I gave him a couple dry strokes, and then spit in my
hand for lube. He liked that.
"Can I touch you as you're touching me?"
"Sure." I spread my legs a little and let him fondle
the front of my pants. He didn't stroke me or squeeze
me, and I didn't get hard from any of this. It was more
like the feel of my balls made him more secure, like a
baby's blanket.
"Did you cum?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Did he cum for you?"
My stroke paused. "No." And then I realized why this
cock felt different. It was different. This guy was
entirely new.
How did he know? Did the other one tell him? Did he
point me out as being "accommodating?"
After living what I had thought of as being a normal,
if open-minded heterosexual life for 28 years, in one
night I tripled my number of adult gay partners
(counting that night when I was 15).
Soon, he took my hand from him, and replaced it with
his own. A couple of stiff jerks, and he drooled out a
thick, white stream of cum onto the floor. And for a
moment, the part of my mind that has been a student of
porn wondered if I should reach out to him, take a
fingerfull of his jizz and bring it to my mouth like a
good little cocksucker. Just to give him a little
thrill. But I had already been adventurous enough.
As I left, I gave him a manly slap on the shoulder.
"Well, good night. Be careful out on those roads." And
I slid out before he was done zipping up his fly.
But on the way out, I passed a sign that read:
Please, no "cruising" in the video aisles. Customers
have complained about this, and you will be asked to
leave.
END
:jo