For the past few years my standard Saturday morning routine has involved stopping by the adult bookstore to look for hot new mags. Only last week did I once again buy the required tokens to cruise the peep show booths. It seemed funny to be walking the boards once again, posing and keeping an eye cocked for an interested party.
As any veteran of the stalls will tell you, good fortune can come at the most unexpected times. What should be a hot time late on a Friday night can be a bust, while I have had some delicious feasts over the lunch hour with horney businessmen who unzipped the fly in their expensive suits for some quick bookstore cocksucking.
This morning while I wandered the maze of dimly lit booths I did spot a hot looking fellow making the run back to the main counter for tokens. He was a cunning specimen, 30-ish with a trim military look to him, showing a nice set of pecs under his T-shirt. His baseball cap and tight levis had the air of your average straight guy out on the town. The beard stubble under his dark mustache had a gritty sex appeal to it. He moved with a deliberate aggressive gait, a masculine and determined type.
My eyes offered an inviting look as he passed, but he briskly strutted back to the last door on the end, throwing the lock behind him. That is another peculiarity of bookstore cruising I'd missed--the sounds. There's the loud clank of tokens being deposited into the coin box, the ominous steps and creaking of the wooden planks as the anxious men traverse the hallways, and the cruel rattling of the door locks-- shutting out unwanted invitations for sex.
I moved back to the booth where the handsome stud had entered and pressed on the door, even though I had heard it being locked. It did not budge. Meandering around the maze I wondered if the college boy I'd scoped earlier would ever quit feeding the meter demon, wishing I could watch what he was doing behind the closed door, knowing the assistance I could offer his hard cock to give him pleasure. I listened carefully for his heavy breathing, perhaps some groaning or wet sounds of his hand in action.
But with another pass at the end of the hall I found, lo and behold, the door to the stall the hot man entered was now showing the tell-tale gap which indicated the latch was open. Hmmmm! My hand reached forward and slowly applied pressure to the door which creaked as it opened.
There he stood with his Cleveland Browns T-shirt reflecting the eerie light from the screen, his cap pulled forward hiding his eyes making his mustache even more prominent, and his hand stroking a very long and hard exposed cock protruding from his zipper. While I knew what it meant I paused a moment to savor the sight. Because of his rugged good looks and athletic build, he did have the appearance of possibly being a police officer so I didn't want to move too fast. On the other hand, the invitation was indeed a temptation which could not be refused.
We were hippies in high school, and now we are suits in office jobs. He came by one Saturday night to my apartment and insisted we call up an escort service and get blow jobs. He was drunk, but he knew what he was doing. His wife was a bitch and he knew I would go for it. We'd had threesomes where we shared a girl before so I knew his cock was huge. I started thinking about his cock.
This is a cyber chat about the sex between an online identity called robin and one called captcook. Read it if you are interested in cock stroking and talk about anal sex and then cum swallowing.
Peacefully, not waking me up. Your smell was still there, in our bed, surrounding me like a good omen for the days to come. I took off my clothes slowly, pretending you are there. I closed my eyes and touched my lips with the tip of my fingers. Gently. I played with the lobe of my ear, as I left the other hand explore my chest. Caressing, then pinching one nipple. Yes, as if you were there.
Despite the cool air that filtered in through the air conditioning vents, the sliver-bearded, dapper, 56-year old executive was sweating profusely. He was not alone in his luxurious, first-class compartment. On the floor on his back was the Senior train guard, 43-year old Nuru, his white uniform pants pulled off over his crisp white socks and white uniform shoes.
Working out with all those hot young guys had tired him out enough that sex hadn't even crossed his mind. But now, with their first weekend pass, thoughts of sex exploded in his 18 year old mind. He had watched the firm hunky body of Willie's climb into the bunk over his for weeks....
The fellow mentioned is George Jones (honest , but not The George Jones. George was my introduction to sexual bliss while I was in that area, a sort of " country rake " known by one & all if you needed to get a blow job from 'heaven'. that was Georges' specialty, and he was known far & wide there abouts. I didn't know it then, but this was one of Georges' favorite 'pick-up' places.
"Live and let live" was definitely the motto in the formerly elegant, now run-down neighborhood. He planned on enjoying the few weeks before his job began at the aircraft plant. He looked forward, too, to working alongside all those men. Jerry met Casey late one might when he was moving in. I'm moving in.
When I started my collection in high school a few years ago the predominate color was white and the material rough cotton, now there is such a variety of colors and materials. Variety has become the spice of life and I for one love it. I am currently a freshmen at State college.
I would be graduating at the end of this year after spending three years there. It was at this school that I'd had my first homosexual experiences. It was here that I'd felt the most alive. It was here that I'd found love and acceptance. He was a sophomore I had befriended last year.
I was outside of the museum writing in my journal when I noticed a rather peculiar cop biking around me. There usually isn't a guy who escapes my eye and I do love flirting with cops, sailors and firemen, but it is rare to find one returning the favor. I am a cute fella, but those guys are meant to be very ethical and serious about their jobs.
Recent laws have pretty much shut all glory-hole video stores, but if you look hard enough you can find them. I had stopped at a few places, but they either had security cameras or some local idiot watching over you. Well, I finally found the place, about 20 miles out of town in the burbs. Very small sign, open 24 hours the usual stuff.
"Hi!" I whispered through the doorway. "Hi" he grunted back, not looking up at all. "Want some company?" I queried, thinking that if he was going to turn and arrest me at least there was some discussion before I laid my hands on him and he consented with, "Sure". Good enough.
I swallowed my fear and entered the small booth, oblivious to the rattle as the door was locked behind me. Instinctively I pulled down my jeans and waved my own hard cock to see if he would touch me. The dripping head of my dick rubbed against his own hard-on causing a generous dollop of pre-cum to intermingle and leave those glistening threads to drip in the faint light.
He showed no interest in my own genitals so coupling that with the observation there was a straight fuck film on the screen, no doubt I just had a straight man who needed a blow job. Parking on the bench as he stood, my lips parted and slowly worked his firm cock down my throat. His dick was not only long, but nice and thick with pulsing veins that tickled the sides of my mouth as I tried to swallow that length all the way down. It was a challenge.
Sensing I was trying to grab at his balls, he undid his belt and dropped his levis to his knees allowing me to stroke his hairy scrotum. His crotch had a pleasing sweaty odor to it, as if he hadn't showered that morning just went to the bookstore for service. With my hand now grasping his nuts and the base of his shaft it was much easier to suck on his wet rod and massage between his legs for stimulation. My manstud remained absolutely silent--no moans or groans, no gasps of approval.
At this point I had to explore more of his body, even though I knew his only interest was in getting his rocks off. While continuing to lick and suck on his massive meat I slipped my hand up the front of his T-shirt to gleefully find a bearish hairy chest. My sucking became more intense as I worked my fingers through the dense mat of fur and rubbed his nipples. Damn! Even if this hunk arrested me I'd to be jacking off about this for days! My hand grabbed at his asscheeks which were smooth and firm.
The guttural slurps of his organ plunging deep into my throat were punctuated by the metallic clanking of tokens in the coin box. I moved my paw back to initiate a good rhythmic motion and briskly pumped his anxious member. There was no indication he was going to climax aside from a few quick jackrabbit strokes from his hips, then the distinctly milky, salty taste of fresh hot sperm started to shoot into my mouth.
I pulled back but kept my hand working as his load oozed from his cockhead and ran down my fingers. The booth which was already sweet with his crotch odor filled with the acrid scent of his cum. His cock went soft rather quickly so I instinctively tried to lap at his balls for some afterplay, but my head was forcefully pushed away. The straight man was now in his own process of denial that he'd just accepted a blow job from another man...(who enjoyed it immensely).
I stood and watched as he wiped up his cum onto his underwear, but even my attempts to fondle his dick one more time were repelled. Okay, I had done my job and was of no more use to him. With a quick turn as the door was unlatched, I did offer a foxy smile and simply said "Thanks!" as I exited back into the hallway.
Walking out of the bookstore into the bright daylight I hoped I'd adequately cleaned the jizz from my mustache but even if I hadn't there would have been pride in wearing my trophy the hot stud offered me. I continued on my way with content, knowing that hung fucker would long remember our encounter even if he couldn't admit it to himself right now.
And if you're reading this guy, I'll meet you next week. Same time, same place...last stall on the end.
I was 18, just, and had for about seven or maybe more years been attracted to hot guys. Now I had an opportunity to find friends, lovers and, most importantly, sex. Being gay and 18 years of age I was totally gagging for it! There I was one night, chatting away in a chat room when a message popped up from a local guy. We chatted for some time and then decided to meet up.
That wonderful chance meeting of eyes, the unspoken acknowledgement of "oh yea, you and me" then rushing towards a bathroom or car where penises begin bubbling merrily moments later. "And what's your name?" Ah, but he's gone, and to be honest, I don't really care about his name. Sometimes you want to be in love, sometimes not. Sometimes a man just wants another man inside.
I lived by myself but due to the type of school, I had to be very careful, so I looked on line and began talking with guys. I was really looking for a bi couple, you know a guy and a girl, both bi, maybe into some kinky stuff. Anyway, I got an e-mail from Adam who lived about an hour from me so we decided to hook up at his place. About 2 weeks later I went back to his place at night.
I mean, he did fuck me, and I did feel really silly later, relaxed at a minimum. I always enjoy my time with Bacon. That's his name, you see, that's why I call him Bacon. He's a top. When I'm with him, I'm a bottom. It works. He had said he would be here at 4 O'clock, here being my place of course.
See, I'm bisexual, and most of the time I'm primarily attracted to women. But when I want good, hot sex without all the baggage, I like a nice juicy cock between my lips. So with a raging hardon in my pants, I headed for the nearby adult bookstore that I knew had gloryholes. I don't know what it is about sex through a gloryhole that's such a turn-on for me.
On my way home I would pass a K-Mart that almost always had some kind of action going. I'd been having sex with guys for a couple of years already, and at the time of this incident, I was a sophomore in college. I had an average build, standing at 5'7", a little afro, yea, I'm black, a cute face and "bed-room" eyes as they say.
Damn! After a two hour workout, my arms and legs ached; all I wanted was to get home, take a hot shower and collapse in front of the television. I pulled into the first service station I came across and pulled up to the "Full Service" island. I was exhausted and in no mood to pump my own gas. Sitting behind the wheel, I watched as the husky attendant came jogging up to my car.
First of all I am lucky that I get alot of attention from men. I have a smooth trim body from alot of swimming,dancing and aerobics in college. I have an awesome ass, round smooth and shapely. I love showing it off and knowing that I can get a man's dick to rise in their pants. At the time I was living in a upstairs apartment.
He couldn't divert my attentions away from it because I had just been laid off my C/UNIX contract when the company I was contracted out to 'downsized' by 25%. I had eyed an ad in the SF Weekly free paper asking for "Hot Guys" age 18-30 to star in porn films.
My reasons for abandoning the Noble Art were that I was leaving school, starting a good job on the Stock Exchange and was fed up with a life which was limited to studying and training. My last fight was to be against Errol Collins, a black guy who I had fought on a number of previous occasions.
Nick retorted, "Duh, what did you expect?" Their friend Brandon, who they met in Western Civ class last semester, came skating over, stopping in front of them with a spray of ice. "Well, you little fucker, you! What're you doin' out here?" Nick asked.
Occasionally I had seen him here at the gym, I knew not his name or his address, but I knew I adored him. He normally seemed to go at a different time to me; I prefer to exhaust myself last thing at night. Usually I exercised in solitude, now there was another in the otherwise quiet, empty gymnasium.
Not soon after, I received a reply from somebody saying he was here on a job and staying at a hotel downtown. He needed some relief, and could use my hot mouth on his tool. After exchanging a few more emails over the next two days, we set up a late-night meeting at his hotel room. I drove downtown to the hotel and went to his room, knocking on the door.
After ten days of sitting in a classroom on a hard seat I was in a real funk. I needed something to change my attitude. That's how I found myself in a small room in the baths taking my clothes off. At this time was 31, 210 pounds in good shape, 7 inch cut, somewhat hairy and un-attached. This was my second trip, my first in my hometown being uneventful. I had a long slow shower. As he removed...
What should I do? Ken could only get down on the odd occasion and was always pure delight to share an afternoon with in his very luxurious mobile caravan. This weekend seemed a possible candidate for a new session.
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