Monday, October 17, 2016

Idle Hands

Northwest Indiana—August, 2016

Many days during my stay in Indiana, I was only working for a few hours each morning.  That left me with lots of time to get into trouble.  Idle hands, my maternal grandmother had always warned we, would lead me right into the Devil’s workshop.  Well, I went to entertain the old goat as often as I could.

Here are a few moments from my visits to the bookstore farthest away from my hotel.  It’s the backroom with four screens on the wall showing various types of porn.  And it has all those ancient sofas…

I push through the curtain.  Empty.  I look at the four screens.  Pretty traditional straight porn.  The gay boys are too young.  The she-male stuff looks like it was filmed with a Super 8 camera in 1982.  I sit down in front of the bi-sexual screen.  It seems to be particularly nasty—and, surprisingly, raw.  I stroke happily and wait.

“Well, hello there!” 

An older man has just walked through the curtain from the store proper.  Two other men, about his age, catch the curtain and follow him in.  The speaker is very tan, greying at the temples and immaculately well dressed—especially for a place where you are likely to haul your dick out. 

“I was hoping you’d be here.   Your mouth is so talented.”

I must have looked confused.

“I was here on Monday,” he says, finally lowering his voice.  “You made me shoot so hard I brought two friends to sample that tongue of yours.”

I smile.  I think this might be a first.  And I do recognize the guy.  His load was drooled into the condom of cum that went up the piss pig’s ass last week.

He wastes no time.  “Things to do,” he tells me as he unzips.  His pink dick is out and perky.  He steps to the side of the sofa where I’m sitting and sticks it right in my mouth.  I hear the other guys unzip.  I do all my tricks, concentrating my tongue action on his cock head and piss slit.

He pulls out of me with a:  “I’m too close.”  He gestures another guy to step forward.  If the first one is headed to his job at the bank after he shoots, this guy looks like I’m the warm up for his round of golf.  He sticks a very small dick in my mouth.  Almost instantly he spews a load all over my tongue.
“Didn’t I tell you?!” the first man chortles.  “Let me back in there.”

He pushes his dick back in my mouth.  I suck.  Again he pulls out, with a “Your turn.”  The third man, also headed to the course, sticks a fat, veiny prick in my mouth.  It’s the same story.  I have his load with barely doing any work at all.

“My turn.”  The leader fucks my face briefly and shoots noisily.  He lets me clean him off for a moment, but then it’s too much.  He cleans himself with a very expensive looking handkerchief.

“Good work, son.”  I actually blush.  He pats me on the head and shepherds the guys out of the store.

Another day.

I don’t do the man stroking himself through his panty hose.  And I don’t think he actually wants me to—he just wants me to acknowledge that he looks pretty.

The place fills with about 10 older men.  But no one will do anything.  I stroke and show off what I have.  I finally get a guy down between my legs.  He has no stamina—and it’s just as well, his teeth are all over my cock head.

A college aged man walks in.  A rarity here.  He sits on the same couch as me, in the bi-sexual area.  He pulls out a very hard, very respectable dick.  The men stand behind our sofa and watch him jerk it.  I wait until there is a pearl of cum on his cock head.

“You want that sucked?”

He shakes his head.  And proceeds to pull his t-shirt up, yoking it behind his head.  He’s ripped.  Pecs and abs glisten. And he’s obviously expecting to shoot a massive load all over them.

“You sure?”  I want him.  Badly.

He grabs his ball sac and pulls them away from his shaft.  He looks at me and nods.

I waste no time getting between his hairy legs and licking those beautiful, full orbs.  I make them wet and slippery.  He lets out a hot moan that makes the men behind him jerk faster.  I start to go up his shaft with my tongue to see what he does.  He pushes my head back down.  I get it.  He wants no exchange of fluids.  I can deal with that with him. If I have to.   I go back to his balls with renewed vigor.  They are beginning to tighten.

A Daddy, with a shaved head and a thick cock in his hand, steps closer to us.  His angry red dick head is mostly covered with a thick piece of foreskin.

“Suck his dick,” he tells me.

“He doesn’t want me to...” I start.

“Bull shit.”  The man grabs the young man’s head and forces his drooling, foreskinned cock into the boy’s mouth.  And the young man allows himself to be face fucked.

I’m in shock—but just for a moment.  The young man explodes.   All over his contoured pecs and ripped abs.  The Daddy doesn’t let him go.  So I dive in and lick the cum off him his chest and stomach—making sure I don’t lick his dick.  He squirms—but he lets me do it.  I get every drop I can.

“You.”  The Daddy has dropped the young man’s head and pulls me up by the collar.  “Kiss me.”
Our lips meet, with much of that fresh, young jizz still in my mouth.  The boy scrambles away from us and into the bathroom.  The Daddy breaks the kiss first.  His hands find my shoulders.  And pushes me down.  “Now suck my dick.”

I do.

He doesn’t want to share that load…


Two years ago, the very first thing I saw happening in this bookstore was a good looking, middle aged guy getting fucked.  The last day I went to this particular Devil’s Workshop, I got to fuck him myself.  He was great.  He begged for my load and I couldn’t help but give it to him.

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