The Suit

Louisville--November, 2011

I was surprisingly awake and ready to go the next morning after a full night of bathhouse sex. Maybe it was because I never shot a load. Maybe it was because I was able to sleep fairly well on my prison cot of a bed. Or that food was calling my name. Anyway, I hit the road at the end of my eight hour limit there, ate, gassed up the car and continued South to Louisville, only some two hours away.  I’d napped a little at a rest area and had arrived at the bookstore just before noon to see if there was a lunch time crowd. I purchased the combo pass for both the straight and gay theatres from the overweight man behind the counter. He seemed pissed off that I made him do some work…

　
I look up into the security camera. The man behind the desk knows I’m here. I’ve just left him and walked around the corner. But he makes me wait. Because he can. Eventually the door buzzes open and I enter the straight theatre. Even at this hour, it smells of disinfectant. And men. It’s dark. There seems to be only one seat occupied of the twenty or so available on this side. I see a crop of thinning gray hair sitting in the front row. I move into the back right corner. The action seat. Easy to turn to get cock in the aisle. And the only seat in the back three rows where there is not a seat in front for easy access to me. I knead my cock through my 501’s. On the screen an incredibly built man in his late 30’s is working over a teenaged girl. I slowly become aware that I can hear the man in the front row stoking: his seat squeaks in rhythm.

I wait for what seems like an eternity. No one else enters. I still have not gotten out my cock, but it’s plumped, making a large bulge for me to stroke through the fabric. I think about seeing what the older man has in his hand. Just as I resolve to get up, he rises, walking to the door. But he doesn’t leave. I hear him move behind me, leaning on the back wall. I stare straight ahead and start to unbutton my jeans. Waistband. First button. Second. I dip my hand in. I can feel him watching me. Third. And fourth. I splay open the front of my jeans. The once white jock is looking decidedly off-white today. Every scrap of pouch fabric is filled with engorged penis. I think his cock is back out. I’m sure that was the sound of his zipper going down. Do I turn to him? Let him make the first move? I wait. I free my balls and run my fingers lightly over them. My cock is drooling. I know it needs release. Just as I’m about to turn around to look at him, the man moves into the aisle. His drooling dick slaps my ear. My head turns to him and I get a mouthful of hard cock.

And he explodes.

I swallow. I try to savor it for a minute, but he pulls out. My cock is still under wraps. He moves back behind me and I hear the ubiquitous fast food napkin emerge from a pocket to wipe himself down. It’s tossed on the floor. A zip. And he’s gone. And I really have no idea what he looked like.

And my cock kinda likes that.

By 1:00pm the room is getting more active. Seven or eight guys are watching the only adequate porn. Most are stroking. And all seem to be more interested in the screen than actually playing. I button up, and walk to the bathroom. I meet a very hot guy who’s Hollywood handsome in a grey pin stripe suit. All hair product and tight double Windsor knot. I don’t see which theatre he goes into. I find the men’s room, piss and head to the gay theatre. It’s bigger, and seats more. Which amuses me. There seems to be no one in the place, but a Raging Stallion video is playing so I stay.

Wait. I’m wrong. There is a guy on the far side in the shadows. I unbutton. He stands up and moves forward into more light. It’s Mr. Pinstripe. He takes off his jacket and puts it in the seat in front of him. He does the same with his tie and shirt. He’s now half naked. He removes his shoes. And pants, folding them carefully. His boxer briefs are tented. My cock is out and throbbing. It’s been a great show. Dressed in nothing but the Calvin Klein’s and dress socks, he sits at the far end of my row. He’s done this before. There is a pool of light from somewhere that falls on that seat. It shows off his chest definition. And the sizable cock he pulls out of his shorts. We stroke. Looking at each other, not giving a shit about the men on screen. He pulls the shorts back over his hard cock. I think the show is over. But no. He crawls slowly to me through the upturned seats. Soon his hot breath is on my cock. I turn my body slightly in his direction and he takes me to the root in one long gulp. Fuck, he’s s good. No teeth. A constantly moving tongue. Just the right amount of suction. And he’s sloppy. His spit is everywhere on my shaft and balls. I lean forward and soon his spit is in my mouth. We kiss hungrily. He’s unbuttoning my shirt, I’m playing with his nipples. He stands up, and just as hungrily, shoves his cock in my mouth. His cock is a faucet. The precum is salty. I can’t get enough. After just moments, he pulls out of my mouth.

“I’ll cum.”

I stand and with the slightest pressure of my hand on his neck, I push him to the floor. He’s back on my dick in no time. I’m not sure he won’t have a load sooner than I usually give them. He stops, huffs poppers and redoubles his efforts to make me explode. I’m close. I stop him with a hand laid on his chiseled chin, fingering the slight stubble. I pull him up. We kiss again. Long and hard.

“I want to eat your ass.”

He doesn’t answer me, he merely pushes past me and climbs onto the aisle chair. His ass is as hairy as the rest of him. I look and stroke. I run my hands over the globes, slightly twisting and tugging the hair in his crack. I kneel. His scent is all man with a hint of the cologne from early this morning. My first taste is right on his hole. It’s electric. To him and to me. My cock drips as if it had shot. He moans, huffs poppers and groans again.

“Fuck, you go deep.”

I don’t answer. I just twist my tongue deeper, pulling his cheeks apart. I have thoughts of breeding this man and sending him back to work in that suit. With my cum dripping out of him all afternoon. My cock is granite. He’s moaning as loud as the guys on the screen. I stand, slap my cock against his up turned ass. He wants it.

“I’m cumming!” He twists in the chair towards me. My mouth finds his cock and I take his salty load. He pants and grunts, calling me a fucker. I won’t let go until I have the last drip. I come up for air, and help him down off the chair. He stands beside me. I long to kiss him, but I’m not getting that vibe, now he’s shot. He touches my cock. He strokes it lightly.

“I’m gonna blow.”

He kneels and jerks it off over his chest. I shake and have to sit down, it’s so intense.

When I look over at him, he’s getting into his pants and shoes. He finds a handkerchief and wipes the semen off as best he can, but it’s matting his chest hair. He’ll at least have me with him that way.

Soon he’s put back together. He hugs me. His mouth is right next to my ear. “You’re a hot fucker. I hoped you’d come in here.”

He leaves.

And I sit and wonder if he’ll secretly shower before his partner sees all that matted hair and dried cum. Or whether he’ll tell him proudly how he got it.