Back to the Devil's Workshop (Idle Hands, Pt. II)

Northwest Indiana—August/September, 2016

My work hours were few.  I had lots of free time.  Oh, those idle hands.  Of course I went back to the Devil’s Workshops—the porn palaces of the area.  The stories in this post were all in a bookstore where there is a “theatre” (chairs, a bench and a standing area behind a low wall) on one side of the store and a typical glory hole arcade is on the other side.  Of course, I saved some money and bought the combo ticket to do both…

A Saturday afternoon.  It’s prime cruising time.  Parking lot fairly full.  I decide to go into the theatre first.  I sit down, slightly to the side.  It’s a straight movie with an actual plot about wife swapping.  (God, I realize that I am old enough to remember when plots in porn were the norm, not the exception.)  I am alone in the theatre.  I pull out my dick.  I stroke—just enough for it to plump nicely.

But I’m not alone.  With the gloom in the space, I hadn’t seen a man in the farthest corner.  He’s behind this 4 foot high wall—in the standing area.  He leans forward now, both arms on the wall, so he’s not stroking. Is he showing me his ass?  If so, I can’t see it from where I’m sitting.

A man comes in.  Blue color trade type.  He stands behind the wall, too.  The first man inches towards him.  The first man’s hand disappears—giving the new arrival a good feel on the front of his jeans.

Nothing ventured.  I stand up and go into the standing area.  I am right behind the new arrival.  He pays no attention to me—as he’s still getting some fondling from the first guy.

So I kneel.

This gets his attention.  He turns, undoing his belt.  He’s on a work break.  The jeans have cement dust all over them and he’s been sweating on the job.  He sticks a dick of just about my size into my mouth.

He sighs as I swallow him down.  “This guy knows how to do it,” he tells the first guy.  That’s enough for the first guy to unzip.  He has next to no cock at all—but I give him the same attention as the big one.

The curtain opens.  An older African American walks in.  He sees the scene and instantly comes over to us.  I am now surrounded by hard cocks.  In my mouth, being stroked in front of my eyes or beating on my cheek, waiting for his turn.  I take the ebony cock in my mouth.  It’s thick, not long.  He holds my head in place and fucks my mouth.

I spend the next 15 minutes being pushed from dick to dick.  I deep throat.  I lick balls.  I make a show of swallowing pre-cum from the veritable faucet of the blue collar dick.  I put my own dick away.  I can’t touch myself.

It’s the tiny dick that comes first.  But one orgasm triggers the others to shoot.  The fat cock slaps my cheek and I just get the small one out of my mouth before the fat one explodes.   Thick and creamy.

Those two guys zip up and leave, leaving me pinned to the wall with the blue collar cock fucking my face.  He comes the moment he calls me a “cocksucking faggot.”  He lets me suckle every drop from him.  Then he wraps a fast food napkin around it and puts it away.

I am left panting in the dark.

*****

Same day.  It’s slow for a while.  I let several men suck me through the glory holes.  One is a thin Latino.  He crooks his finger through the hole, calling me over.  I go.  He’s very small and thin.  

Likely 50’s, just the beginnings of grey in his black hair.  A handsome face.  And a bubble butt.  He turns and drops his pants.  It’s tight in these booths, but I kneel and surprise him by rimming his hole.

“Fuck me,” he whispers.  “Fuck me good.”

I stand up, hoping he’s prepped for I’m going in. 

I fuck him hard. 

I fuck him as he clutches the plexiglass case around the television in the booth. 

I fuck him until he cums handsfree.

And he’s spotless.

I open the door.  There is Miguel—the Latino from Ryan’s house and the house party this August.  He leads me to another booth.  I fuck him there.

We only stop to see if he can’t get a load from someone else for me to fuck in.  I go to the theatre as he works the arcade.

Thirty minutes later, he’s been fucked, but no load. 

I take care of that for him—and give him the one I’ve been building up.

*****

Another trip.  Evening now.  Fairly deserted.  I’m in the theatre, jerking.  I’m rock hard.

A fit older guy enters.  He sucks me.  I lose half of my erection—and I’m not quite sure why.  I’m now about half hard.  Maybe it’s because I know he wants to get fucked and I don’t want to do that with him.

The curtains part.  The hottest man I’ve seen there walks in.  He stops and watches us.  My dick gets very hard now.  He’s tall, thin and with muscles showing under a tight, white tee shirt.  Chiseled, tanned features.  Longish, dark hair.  He opens his jeans and takes out a long, thin dick, with a ton of foreskin.  He strokes, moving that skin lovingly over the slick red head of his cock.

My cock sucker shows off too, showing how deep he can take me.

The hot guy comes over to where I’m sitting.  “You suck?” he asks.  I take him in my mouth.

He likes my tongue a lot and tells me so.  I suck noisily.  I lick his balls pulling the shorts and the jeans down to get at them.  My hands find his ass cheeks.  He’s incredibly hairless. All over.   I get his equally hairless orbs good and wet.

He leans down to heft my cock.  I squirm around and stick my face into his ass.  This is the ass I want to fuck.  I rim him as he grabs onto the shoulders of my cocksucker.  He groans as I wet his hole.

“You like to fuck?” he grunts out.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he says.  “I’m ready to bang your ass so fuckin’ hard.”

I am so surprised, it takes me a moment before I say I don’t enjoy getting fucked.

He’s pissed.  He zips up and leaves us alone.

I sigh.  Maybe I’ll do my cock sucker after all…

*****

I will save the last story from this particular Devil’s Workshop until next time—a story I’m calling “Feeding the Felchers.”