Tuesday, November 27, 2012


On the Road in Kentucky—October, 2012

I am up early the next morning, even after my night of sex at the bookstore in Louisville.  After breakfast, I was on the road early, wanting to get to Nashville before lunch—just a three hour journey—no problem.  An hour into the trip, all the southbound lanes slowed.  Then we stopped.  After 30 minutes of a full stop, we inched forward for about two miles and then stopped again.

I turned off the engine.
We sat for over an hour.

Then we began inching forward.  Just for another mile or so.  I noticed I was within a mile of the exit where the only adult bookstore in middle Kentucky is located.  I inched forward.  And sat some more.  An hour later I took the exit.  The surface streets were jammed as everyone tried to take the old state routes south.  I turned the other way, ate a tremendously greasy chicken breast at a gas station (the only food at the exit) and headed for the bookstore.  It has the most expensive entry I’ve ever encountered, but I would rather cruise for several hours than sit stock still in my car.  The parking lot was jammed with cars and tons of semis.  Obviously I was not the only one with that idea…

I am buzzed in.  The set up is nice.  One large room has straight videos playing on a large screen television.  The seating is a sea of love seats.  Around a corner is a slightly smaller room with another large screen television showing all male movies.  Love seats are scattered haphazardly around this room as well.  Down a twisting corridor is the arcade—maybe 14 booths, most with gloryholes.
There are easily 25 guys in the place.  Likely more, since we are so spread out.  And no one is playing.  Not a single cock out and jacking, much less a blow job.  I cruise the arcade.  No one lingers in a booth long enough to start anything.

I go back to the gay theatre.  I take the bull by the testicles, so to speak, and open my fly.  It’s a boring movie, but I get hard and stroke.

 Suddenly, everyone is in the room. 
Looking. Just looking.  And groping themselves.

I make a show of playing with my cock head.  I thumb my piss slit and bring it up to my mouth.
The guys are a mixed bag of hot rednecks, out of shape older guys, and a few young guys who would rather smoke than have sex.  Finally a man, who looks a little like James Mason in Lolita, inches over.  He sits next to me, right on the edge of my loveseat.  “I want that,” he whispers is a deeper southern drawl than I somehow expected.  He reaches out a tentative hand.  He strokes it.  His hand is so soft, his grip so loose, I can barely feel it.

“Suck it,” I tell him.  He gasps, lets go as if I’d burned his hand and flounces out.

Suddenly, things heat up.  In the far corner a young Hispanic has knelt to suck one of the Daddies.  He’s doing a fine job.  He has pulled his pants all the way down to expose his hairy, brown ass as he leans forward to suck.  I almost get there in time, but I’m beaten out by a hot trucker.  “Come on.”  He pulls the Hispanic up.  “You want to get fucked?” 
The young man nods.  “You got condoms?” he asks.

“I’m married.  We don’t need them.”  He shows his wedding ring to the young man, as if it were the answer to everything.  The young man starts to say something, but the trucker hustles him away into the darkness of the arcade.  I never see the young one again.
I get some head in the privacy of a booth. 

Then get some out in public.
I talk to a trucker and learn that a truck has exploded about 5 miles farther south.

Suddenly the truck driver top is back.  He sees me.  “You have a big cock.”
I nod.

“Let me taste that.”
In the middle of the gay area he kneels.  I undo my pants and let him suck.  We are ringed by onlookers.  “Nice,” he grunts.  He takes me down his throat.  He’s actually better than I expect.

“Damn, that makes me want to get fucked.”  He stands up and bends over the back of a love seat.  “Stick it in raw, man.  I’m married so I’m safe.”  I sigh….but I do it.  The response is electric.  We spark at least three groups of men into play.  Any direction I turn as I plow into him, I can see sex happening. 

 Hours later I hit the road and sail into Nashville.  Ten hours late.

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