Canada--Monday at The Cellar

Toronto—August, 2012

I woke up at Steamworks at about 3:30am.  Horny.  Still.  I scouted the halls.  Nothing.  I was due to leave in an hour anyway and decided not to renew as I needed some better sleep.  I walked the streets of Toronto back to my car, curled up in the front seat of my Ford Focus, long legs up on the passenger side of the dashboard and slept until breakfast called…

Later, I saw a fuck-bud/friend (who I’ll be meeting for sex later on in the week) for a quick coffee.  I told him I was off to go pitch my tent at my final destination, but I lied to him.  Oh, I did have the tent up by 6:00pm….but I stopped in for the Nooner at The Cellar before I left town.  From noon to 1pm it is a cheap, cheap price to get guys in on their lunch hour.  I remember lines out the door as we all queued up to get in right at the top of the hour.  It was 12:45 now, so I was hoping the men were all in and ready…

My cock jumps as I hug my friend goodbye.  I’d do him right now if he had time.  He goes off to his bank.  I go half a block in the other direction and through the black door with no sign.  I am buzzed in.  I have a choice of gloryholed rooms to rent.  Not a good sign.  This bathhouse is truly a cellar, with rooms laid out in a sort of figure eight pattern.  I walk past a huge projection TV showing porn.  Most of the doors to the rooms now have a gloryhole (with a locked cover) in them I notice.  They are all shut.  I pass a partitioned area also with sizable holes.  But here, the main action seems to happen in the back hallway where it is always pitch black.   I find room “N” easily.  I shed my clothes quickly and walk back out in my jock and boots.  No one is in a room.  Well, except for the guy who is never touched the entire time I’m there.  Everyone is in the back hallway.  I move through the hall easily.  Not good.  Maybe six or eight guys.  A couple of years ago, it would have been so crowded I could not have gotten more than a few steps into the mass of fondling flesh.

I’m disappointed.  But it’s not about numbers.  It’s about finding the right guys. 

I want to suck some cock.  I hadn’t sucked any dick at Steamworks.  Yeah, I’d cleaned some off after they had been in someone’s hole—but it’s not the same.  I had been totally focused on ass.  Now I wanted that explosion of  cum going down my throat. 

A hand snakes out.  He grabs my dick.  He pulls it towards the back wall where he in kneeling, but I can’t see him.  He sucks.  It is ok, but not great head.  More hands appear out of the gloom and tweak my nips.  A tongue goes in my ear.  A hard cock is against my ass crack.  My sucker rises when he gets me hard.  He tugs me towards the entrance.  “Come fuck me.”

I shake my head and move away into the darkness. 

I find a broad furry chest.  With those huge, eraser sized nipples.  My mouth goes right to them.  Eventually I kneel and find a slightly curved cock.  He’s cut, with a very small head, but it keeps widening into a thick base.  I take it all down my throat.  Eventually he pulls out of my mouth and tells me just to use my hands on the head.  I do.  I work far too long.  He moves away. 

A pair of massive thighs replaces him.  I start to rise and he pushes me down.  This guy is hung.  With a dripping foreskin.  I suck.  And suck.  I work my tongue under his helmeted dick head.  I pull it back, swab it and pull the skin back over it.  I nibble it.  I suck him to the root.  Soon he is beating his cock off into my mouth, brushing the loose skin on my lips and beard.  I desperately want him to cum.  He works it.  And then beats it some more. 

He turns away to make room for a new comer.  This guy sticks his cock in my mouth and blows a thick load in two strokes.  I know nothing about what he looks like.  But he tasted great.

The beater is back.  In my mouth.  Rubbing the foreskin on my beard.  On my nose.  On my cheek.  Back to my mouth.  He’s now really dripping.  But he can’t, or won’t, shoot.

I finally have to get off my knees.  I sit on a bench and watch the porn.  I get some head from a decidedly older man.  At least I can see him.  He’s good.  But I need cock in my mouth.  I head back to the dark hallway.  No one.

I wander, pausing at the gloryhole partitions.  There he is.  The beater.  I step towards him—he can’t beat through a hole.  I suck him hard—and for quite a bit longer before he returns to the beating routine. 

But this time I have him.  He starts to shoot.  He tries to pull it from my mouth, but I wrest it from him.  His semen is bitter.  But it’s a huge load. 

I jerk frantically as he coats my throat.  Fuck, yes!  I shoot on his bare feet, webbing his toes…