Tales From the Bookstore

Near Home—November, 2013

It’s cold.  I shouldn’t be surprised that it is this cold—we’ve had a much colder winter this year here in the Midwest.  It will just not stop snowing today.  My fingers are beginning to warm as I hold my cup of tea.  I am sipping and typing.  Well, more sipping than typing this very minute.  I keep having flashbacks to the New Year’s Eve orgy I helped host.  I keep thinking of the big cocks, the hot guys and the greedy, cum filled holes sitting on my face… 

Oh, wait.  I’m supposed to be talking about my late November trips to the bookstore.  For whatever reason, during the second half of the month, I spent more time at the bookstore than in my playroom.

I had a lot of sex there.  And a number of odd encounters…

I am sitting on the straight side.  Decent porn is playing here—far hotter than the half hard, latexed boys on the screen in the gay theatre.  There is only one man in the space with me.  I recognize him.  He’s a guy who can’t open wide enough to take me without his teeth getting all over the ridge of my cock head.  I’ll stick to my hand.

But he begins to talk.  And talk.

At first he says nice things about me—my look, my oral skills.  He takes a swig from his soda bottle.  He begins again, but now I can smell the alcohol.  He’s poured rum into that Coke can.  He won’t stop talking—about the porn, the facility, the couch—and he’s getting louder and louder.  I finally have to retreat to the gay theatre.

A new guy has arrived there.  He’s my age, with a thick build and a thick dick.  He is stroking to the twinks on the screen with slow, languid strokes.  I sit slightly ahead of him, but in his range of vision.  I take my cock out.  In no time, he’s on the floor in front of me and giving me head.  He’s fine—it feels good, but it won’t get me off.  I finally suggest he take a break. 

He sits next to me.  We watch the porn. 

We stroke.

He reaches over and pushes my head down on his cock.  I let him.  I oval large.  He shoots.  I swallow. 

And he begins to talk.  Somehow he knows that I know a friend of his.  But not some hot mutual fuck bud, no, it’s someone I work with.  I grunt non-committally   

So much for keeping those two worlds apart.   

 

I’m back from another round of shoveling—this time excavating my car.

I look again at my notes from November.  I see there is another night where I state I got four loads down my throat.  No comments about who and I haven’t a clue about the men now.  I do remember (thanks to my notes) that it’s also the night I break down and fuck the Mexican who is sometimes cleaned out and sometimes not.  That night he was dirty.  Spectacularly so.  But that’s all I’m going to write about that.

I have just finished shoveling the driveway again.  As they plow the street, the crew keeps repeatedly filling in what I have cleared.

And then there’s the night that my only companion on the straight side is this handsome man…

I guess he’s late thirties.  He has a chiseled face with a cropped head of dark hair.  He is fit and dressed in sweats.  He has no problem pulling out his cock and stroking.  I sit directly across from him and do the same.  I notice that he can see mine, with my big flared head sticking way above my fist, but I can’t see his cock at all.  His hand covers it all.  

“That’s quite a cock you have there.”

“It’s good genetics.  I thank my grandfather every day.”

“You get a lot of pussy with that?”

“Quite a bit recently,” I say, quite truthfully with all that FTM porn I’ve done.

“Now, she’s what I need.”  He means the girl on the screen.  She is sucking the cock of her partner for all she’s worth.  He jerks harder as he looks at her.

Silence.

Broken only by the sound the lube makes on my cock.

“You ever have sex with guys?”  His voice is a little breathy now.

I pause.  “Sure.  I’ve let guys suck me here.”

“Really?  You like it?”

“Yeah.  Most of ‘em are really good.”

We discuss whether guys can suck dick better than many women. 

I conclude with “I’ve even been known to help a guy out myself”—giving him the opening I think he’s searching for.

“I couldn’t let a guy do that to me.  I’m not gay.”

Silence.

Then he adds, “But I’d like to get fucked by a big cock like yours.”

I just look at him.

“Well, not here, not now.  But I’d like to know what a monster like you’ve got would feel like.”

I shrug. 

“But I’m not gay,” he tells me again.  He pauses.  “That cock of yours would stretch me out good.”

“Any time…”

“You fuck guys?” he asks.

“Sure.  I love tight ass.”

“Damn.”  He squirms in his chair and makes sure I notice he returns his gaze to the screen.  “Look at her take it in the ass.”

“Nice,” I mutter.

Silence.

I stand up.  I move across the room so I’m almost in front of him—but I could be just going toward the door.  I stop for a second.

“Jesus—that thing is big.” 

I take a step closer to him.

“Hey, no way.  Get that thing away from me.” 

I push my cock into my pants and make for the door as if that’s where I was headed all along.

"I’m not gay!”  he mumbles as the door slams shut.