Bookstore Blunders

Southern Indiana—February, 2019

I had no other play in Memphis.  My conference ran too late every night.  Headed home, I was out of town pretty early, if not fast.  A giant pothole had wiped out quite a few cars and they reduced traffic to a single lane crawling out of the Home of the Blues.

I was now very glad I hadn’t tried to go all the way home.  I had a reservation in southern Indiana, with plans to spend the night at the bookstore with the side by side cinemas.  I arrived a little late, ate lightly and went to see who was cruising for sex…

I buy the combo ticket.  The cashier fastens a wristband around me—the left, next to the leather wristband.   After a quick piss, I start in the straight side.  There is one man sitting in the front row.  I sit at the back.  I open the buttons to my fly and knead my cock mound.  I sigh.  Funnily enough the man in the front row is now sitting behind me on the permanent ledge.  He leans over inspecting my now hardened cock. 

“Do you mind?”

He means sit next to me, not get between my legs and suck a week’s worth of cum out of me.  We watch the movie—very old and shot on film.  Eventually he does reach over and I feel a very soft hand on my cock.  He plays with me.  More annoying then sexual.

“I’d prefer your mouth.”

He all but gasps, then considers, and leans over and gives me dainty head.  He takes maybe half an inch of shaft after my fat mushroom.  The angle is bad, of course.  And he’s too out of shape to kneel on the floor.

“Thanks, I think I’ll just jerk for awhile.” 

He sighs but stays there.  He stroking, but there is so much of him I can’t see his dick.  I really want him to move on.  I’d rather be alone.  I stew a moment, then I stand up and fall to my knees.  “Feed me your dick,” I hiss.

He is zipped up and out of there is no time.

*****

A 40-something Latino comes in.  He sits in the chair next to me without asking.  He’s not bad looking.  “Big dick” he says, with a rather heavy accent.  “You fuck?”

My ears stand up and my cock beads cum.  “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Good.”  He gets between my legs, dropping his work pant around his ankles on the way down.  He gives good head—not great but certainly better than the last man.  I can hear him masturbating as he sucks.  He pulls off…and begins using his wife’s make up remover on me as lube.  Roses fill the air.  And then he rolls down the tightest damn condom I have ever had on in my life.

I grunt—and it’s not soft and sexy.  “No.”

“I only fuck with condom!” he hisses.

‘Fine,” I hiss back.  “But not with me—I can’t feel my dick.”

“But you so big…”

I roll it off and toss it on the floor.  “Sorry.”

He pulls up his pants and leaves.

And then it happened.  A hot muscle daddy walks in and sits on ledge.  My age but with arms that are twice as big as mine.

“Nice,” he says, looking at my cock, “But I really need someone to suck me.”

I swing around and get on my knees.  He spreads his legs and undoes his pants.  It’s sizable, but he’s not huge.  That’s better for me.  I can do more.

I suck his cock. 

He loves when I lick his balls.

He really loves that I make a point of getting every drop of his precum.

“Aw hell,” he mutters.  “Stand up and let me taste that thing.”

I do.  He’s not great, but it’s hot that he’s doing it.

I go back to my knees.  I suck him deep, making sure he feels me swallowing his precum.  I look up and wait until he makes eye contact.  “I want your load.”

“Maybe.”  He stands and zips.  “I might be back—or maybe that twink in the arcade will walk funny tonight.”

He leaves his fluffer on the floor.

Eventually I sit on the ledge.

The Latino is back.  Determined.  “Okay.”  He drops his pants and sits on me.  Raw.  It feels great.  Warm and slick and velvety.  I am feeling great now. 

“Don’t cum in me.”

I sigh and agree. 

We fuck.  He is in control, as I sit there.  I smell it first.  And know what’s happening.  “Up.  Off me.  Now.” 

He gets off my dick reluctantly.  I am grabbing for the paper towels in my pants pocket. 

He sees me wrapping my dick in paper—he thinks I’ve shot.  But then there is the stench—and he is mortified that even my sweatshirt has been christened from his dismount.

We meet up again in the bathroom.  I am at the sink.  The cock is clean.  The sweatshirt not so much.

“You didn’t cum in me, did you?”

My head turns to him and I just glare at him, waiting for him to turn to stone.

*****

For the record, I did find another plus-sized man.  At his request, he sat in a chair and I jerked my cock off into his mouth.