Friday, August 21, 2015

A Bookstore Summer: Poppers and Double Bagging

Near Home—June, 2015

Friday night.  No sex for a week.  No one online.  Back to the bookstore.

I am on the couch in the straight theatre.  No one else is around.  No one. 

No one but the man who is giving me head.  It’s the very large Black man with the mouth of velvet.  He is hell-bent on getting my cum this time.  He has been working for a long time—but it takes a very long time for me to get off with oral sex. 

“Do my balls,” I suggest, thinking my jerking as he laps at my low hangers will help.  He does, but he’s not pleased.  He sighs and licks at them rather half-heartedly.  My orgasm recedes even farther.  I let him back up on my dick, but his knees are shot.  He finally admits defeat and heads back to the arcade—the land of the two minute man. 

The straight porn is bad.   My mind wanders and my erection flags. 

There is the sound of movement in the gay theatre.  I can hear it through the vent in the dividing wall.  I pull my clothes together and go investigate.  A man sits alone against the back wall.  He’s around my age, and rather distinguished looking in very dressy clothes for this place.  I sit near him, leaving a seat between us. 

I take my dick out.  He unzips and puts his four fingers inside and strokes himself keeping his fingers flat—eyes on the big screen television. 

With no preamble—and rather loud:  “I’ll suck your dick if you give me a hit of poppers.”

I look at him.  “I don’t have any.”

We go back to watching the movie in silence.

“Are you sure?” he says, not looking at me.  “All gay men have poppers.”

I turn to him.  “You don’t.”

“Well, I’m not gay.”

“You’re the one offering to suck my cock,” I point out.

“Well, I’ll do anything with poppers.”  He condescends to look at me.  “Give me a hit and I’ll show you.”

“I don’t have any,” I say again.

He turns away from me in disgust, not believing me for a second.  He zips up and leaves.


It feels like hours later.  But I’m sure it’s not that long.  I am licking the ass of my regular fuck bud from here.  He looks to be in his upper 30’s, but I’m sure he’s hit by 40 now, his sandy colored hair has some grey in it when we are in the full light of the sales room.  He’s trim, hairy and hung—and loves my dick in his butt—or his cock in my throat.  He’s naked but for athletic socks, his clothes stashed in the back corner.  He is kneeling in the seat of his chair—and my face is buried in his butt as I stroke.

The door opens.  We don’t stop.  It’s a college aged man.  He pulls out his dick the moment he registers what we are doing.  His black skin looks even darker against the white of his underwear.  

My FB turns so his mouth is available.  The young man puts a condom on his dick.  I really wanted to be the first up my bud, but I don’t mind.  Then the young man puts on a second condom—and sticks his latex smothered cock in my bud’s mouth.

I spit one last time into the hole I have been slurping on, and make a show of sticking my raw cock into the wet ass.  The young man wants to see every inch disappear, but he doesn’t take the hint to lose the latex.  I fuck for a long time.  He is very tight tonight.  And I’m horned as hell—but in no danger of blowing yet. 

I offer the young man a chance to fuck.  He shakes his head.

The door opens. 

It’s the distinguished looking man.  “Who has poppers?”  he asks of this trio of spit roasting fags.  And not one of us do.  He leaves with a muttered “Hrumph.”

The young man pulls off a condom, jerks his dick and pulls off the second one.  He shoots across my bud’s chin—all of his load going on the grungy floor.  He pulls himself together—and my bud pulls off me.

“I can’t take anymore.  It’s been a long time for anything back there.”

We meet up later and he gives me his load down my throat—which triggers mine.

Saturday night.  My friend Cam wants me to come to the bookstore—he has a hot bottom in tow and no place to fuck.  I finagle my schedule to get a second night off

They don’t show.   The bottom chickens out. 

The place is pretty much deserted.  A  White man of considerable girth begs to suck my cock.  I let him.

“Give me your cum,” he grunts out. 

I stand over him, forcing my balls to be licked as I jerk.  I will myself to give this guy the load so I can go home.  It works.  I shove my length into his mouth as I cum.  He grunts in delight.  I shoot a big load.

And he spits it out.  Repeatedly.  Hacking and spitting into the corner.

I button my jeans up in disgust and vow I won’t have sex again until I can have real sex. 

And I get it the very next week on my night off—Derrick invites me back to his well-stocked playroom to meet his boy…

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