Near Home—May, 2015
After meeting up with Derrick, I went to IML that weekend. Faithful readers should remember my daily posts about fucking in the host hotels, the IML piss party and making some more porn.
I didn’t need to play when I got home. Nothing. Not until the very last Saturday of May did I venture out to the bookstore.
It was an odd night.
There is excitement in the air from the moment I walk into the store. Buying my ticket to the cinemas, I hear two guys behind me talking in hushed tones about the eminent arrival of “this woman.” One of the cute, fully straight guys I know by sight stops me on the way to the theatre. He pulls me aside and tells me to be prepared for the best blow job tonight. “She has the hottest mouth.”
Not surprisingly the straight theatre—newly in the larger space—is packed. I take the last chair.
And we wait. Most of us stroking to some hot anal porn.
The door opens. A man I’ve never seen announces “They’re here.”
In they come. Husband and wife: both pushing 60 or more and absolutely dumpy. He is in Bermuda shorts and an open shirt of a tropical print. His wife is in a denim wrap around shirt and a buttoned up white blouse. Two guys in the middle of the row opposite me get up and make room for them to sit together. The husband kneads his cock through the fabric of his shorts for a moment and tells the assembled room that she will suck off any and every man there. “Don’t be shy. We travelled quite a ways to get here.”
One of the men who gave up his seat is right there. He’s unzipped and ready.
And she goes to work. I can’t tell much about her technique, but knowing some of these guys, I know they have no fuse at all—they shoot the moment they are in a wet mouth. And sure enough, he quietly grunts and is gone.
She unbuttons the top button of her blouse and does numbers two and three.
She unbuttons more, showing off a rather worn, dis-colored bra.
Four, five and six.
She pauses and takes a slug of water from the bottle her husband hands her.
Seven. One man can’t decide—then stands up gives her his dick. Eight.
She has done everyone in the room save for me and a chronic jacker.
The cute guy who gave me the heads up finally comes into the room and unzips. It’s nice to see his cock hard.
He gives her a work out, but finally gives her a load. He sighs contentedly and zips up. Nine.
“You should let her service that big ‘un of yours.”
I shake my head. The husband turns to the jerker—who panics and races out of the room unzipped.
They wait. And wait. The husband occasionally looks at the screen. She drinks more water. When it is clear that they have cleaned out the theatre, they adjust their clothing and head out the door. I idly wonder how many of those men I would have gotten had she not been there...
I head over to the gay side, thinking I might find a group of men who weren’t interested in what I just witnessed. There is just one. But the right one: The tall slender top who stealthed my friend the other week. His long and thin cock is out. I go down on him. He groans in pleasure. Something that was almost universally missing from the marathon next door.
He pulls me off his cock. I stand and he unbuttons my pants. He must be horned---he blows me for a change. And he’s good. I fuck his face for a bit—holding his head still.
“Eat my ass like you did that tramp’s the other night.”
He leans into a chair and I fall to my knees. Getting his ass eaten really excites him. His jerking accelerates. I eat him out until my knees can’t take the hard linoleum any longer. I stand up, making sure my hard cock brushes his ass, hoping…
“Sit down.” He wants to be in charge. I let him. And sit. He stands on my seat, straddling my lap. For a second I think he’s going to sit on my dick, but instead he begins fucking my mouth.
And he’s not silent when he shoots down my throat…