Married Men

Jackson--January, 2012

MAL left me not wanting sex for four days. Let me repeat that--FOUR days. That is pretty incredible for me. So by Friday I had recovered and was horned and ready. I needed to visit family in Metro Detroit so I thought I could just go to the bathhouse after I was done. I hadn’t counted on the snow. Or to be exact, how many fewer salt trucks would be on the road with all the budget cuts in Detroit. The roads became treacherous. I didn’t chance it--since likely few others would either. I stayed in. I awoke rampant and ready. I went home, but stopped by the bookstore, the one an hour away from my house--hoping I might get to fuck Manny on a Saturday late afternoon and night. The lot was quite full. No cute ass. Bu lots of married men…　

“Take it. Fuck, yeah.”

The load is ropey and thick. Not much flavor, but there is a lot of it.

It’s true, I guess. All things come to those who wait….

There are five or six men in the lounge when I first go in. All jacking to the straight porn, with occasional glances at the gay stuff happening on the screen next door. I settle in and haul out my cock. One of the married men is a guy I’ve played with before. He is down on me before I’m hard. He gets me hard, with some nice juicy head. He stands up though, just as it’s getting good, and tells me to take his cock. He shoots a tiny, tiny load. And leaves.

I wander and find a very tall man jerking. He’s at least 6’4”. His cock is thick and stubby. The big hand jerking it has a wedding band on it as thick as any I’ve ever seen. He refuses my offer of a blow job. He wants to watch me jerk. And he does. But soon the idea of blowing in a mouth is too much. I take him. He blows. He is complimentary of my 30 seconds of work and takes off fast.

And nothing. Lots of men. But all keeping to themselves.

It’s close to an hour later. He walks into the straight room--all eyes look to him. He is graying at the temples. A handsome profile, nice clothes for a bookstore. He sits in the far chair. He pays no attention to any of the stroking. No casual glances at the other guys. His hand digs into the waistband of his pants. He is kneading himself under the fabric. We jerk. We knead. We stroke. Guys discreetly blow a load in the paper towel provided by the management.

I’m bored and amble off to the transgendered porn. When I return I see the result of a furtive blow job. My distinguished guy’s eyes are riveted on a man who was obviously just straightening up from sucking the cock next to him on the sofa. They see me and all eyes go back to the screen. Nothing happened, man.

I wait. Guys leave. A few arrive. I travel to all four viewing areas. In the transgendered area, I find the graying gentleman. His cock is out now. Long and thin. And no attempt to hide it from me. I sit far enough away to not crowd him.

And wait. And watch the screen.

“Cocksucker?” It’s loud in the alcove.

I nod my head. His only answer is to spread his legs.

I go to him and kneel. He opens the waist band wider. I see all of it now. He’s long and thin. Cut. Drooling. I take just the head in my mouth.

He hisses a long intake of air.

I slowly sink down on it. My tongue is over active, my right hand kneads his balls.

It’s going to take no time.

“Take it. Fuck, yeah.”

The load is ropey and thick. Not much flavor, but there is a lot of it.

I clean him up. No need for that paper towel when you are in my mouth.

“Fuck, I needed that.” He’s suddenly loquacious. “My wife’s away on business these last three weeks. A guy told me bout this place--but I don’t know. I almost didn’t come in--a cop was right behind me on the street.”

I am nursing the last drip of jizz out of his softening cock.

“Damn, you know how to suck. Thanks.” A moment of silence. “I don’t usually do this…”

I smile up at him. “Hey,” I offer, “it’s just guy’s helping each other out. That’s all.”

He looks reassured--and starts to do up his trousers.

“Damn, you sure do know how to make a man happy…”

He is buttoned up, zipped up and tucked.

And gone.