Sunday, December 6, 2015

Working the Booths

Northwest Indiana—October, 2015

I was leaving town.   Work was taking me to Northwest Indiana for about five weeks.  I did the same job in the same place last year—but this time I was staying longer.  I was excited to explore new bookstores, find new men and get away from home.

I went a day early.  I moved into the hotel I would be living in for the first couple of weeks, changed my clothes and went out to the first of three adult bookstores I wanted to visit in the next few days.
I started with the one I had been to before.  It’s the biggest in the area and the one Ryan mentions when he talks about bookstore visits in his blog Spreading My Legs.  It has a major arcade with state of the art technology.  It’s a series of booths—none with glory holes.  The method of cruising here, I knew.  You simply went into a booth and, if you wanted company, you didn’t lock the door when you started a video.  The red light reading “occupied” outside the door was a beacon for horny men, cocksuckers and butt boys.

I arrived at lunch hour.  It’s a traditional “good time” to catch horny business men.  I wandered the aisle down the middle of the booths.   A number were lit, but all with locked doors.  I selected a corner booth, left it unlocked and fired up a video of some bi-sexual porn.  I splayed open my button fly and got myself hard.

My door opens.  A man comes in.  I hear his sharp intake of breath when he sees my dick.  I turn to look at him.  He’s a good 20 years older than I, wearing really ratty clothing, his grey hair long on the collar and rather greasy.

“That’s a big one.”

I nod.

“Would you like to rub that between my thighs?”

I just look at him.

“Not in me, but between my legs…”  He begins to unbuckle his belt.

“I don’t think that’s quite what I am looking for…” I tell him truthfully.

“Oh, one of those guys.  You want to suck dick.  Want to suck mine with a rubber on it?”

I make my excuses and, thankfully, the video stops at that moment.   He doesn’t budge.  I close my pants and push out the door.  I settle in another booth.

And no one else shows up.  Not one.

I go to lunch and try again.


3:00pm seems to be the time.  I open the door of the booth in the farthest back corner.  A bear of man has his pants around his ankles and is stroking a short fat cock.  He’s hairy and all man.

“Lock the door and suck it,” he tells me.  Who am I to say no?

I have to work for his load.   Every trick I know.  He loves to slap my face with his erection.  He loves that I pay attention to his balls and below them.  He loves how whenever I get precum in my mouth I swallow it noisily as if I’ve just been fed ambrosia.  I love the smell of motor oil under his fingernails.

“You swallow?”

I grunt a yes—little does he know how much I want his load down my throat.

And he gives it to me.  Thick, viscous and delicious.  He lets me clean him thoroughly. 

He pulls out a handkerchief to mop up and puts it back in his pocket as I pull off his cock—there’s nothing left to wipe down.


I stay in the booth—watching the last of his straight gangbang movie.

A truck driver type opens the door.  He can smell the sex in the room, and with a sigh, pulls out a small, uncut dick.  He barely gets it into my mouth before he cums.  And goes.


I open the door to the booth I started in before lunch.  It’s a hipster college kid.  Cropped hair, bookish glasses and a full, incredibly manicured, beard.  Expensive clothes, slightly rumpled. And a long thin cock in his fist.

I stand for a moment—uncertain—thinking I’m too old for him.

“Looks like you have a big one,” he tells me.

I lock the door.

I spend the longest time of the day feeding him my cock.  He encourages me to use him.  “Fuck my face with that monster.”

How can I refuse?  He takes it all but the last inch.  He knows to cover his teeth.  He squirms on the floor as I hold him by the sides of the head and relentlessly plow into his mouth.  Or pull out and push my balls into his panting mouth.  Or smack the side of his head with my engorged dick.  I wipe the dick head across his tongue.  He swallows.  And I begin a slow fuck into his mouth.

It’s too much.  He shoots all over the floor and on my boots. 

He gets all self-conscious.  I pull myself together and leave him alone to clean up.  Exiting the booth, I all but bump into another college kid.  He’s medium height and wiry, with great arms sticking out of his t-shirt.  His black skin looks even darker against the white fabric.

No pretense here.  Right in the hall, he grabs the obvious bulge in my pants and leads me into the closest empty booth.

He falls to his knees and gives me great head.  But he wants some head in return, too.  His cock is the black equivalent of mine.  I have to work to not scrape him as I suck him deep into my throat.  He pulls out, afraid he’ll shoot.

He drops to his knees and takes me to the root.  I know he’s getting my load.

Moments later, I explode.  He shoots the moment he tastes my jizz.

We both go home happy.

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