Hot, Then Not

 Jackson—June, 2023

 

It was the Wednesday at the end of the month.  The middle of the week had, in the past, proved a fun day at the bookstore—the one that had gone through a recent renovation to its playspace.  There always seemed to be lots of men around the various viewing stations, secluded cubicles or glory hole booths.  If I was lucky, I’d find a guy to show off his ass on the medical exam table.

As I arrived, just before noon, the parking lot showed a promising number of vehicles…

 

I go into the darkened area.  There are quite a few men standing around.  And not one of them is doing anything.  But that’s fine—I can usually fix that.  I sit on the couch in front of two different screens showing two different genres of porn.  I pull out my cock.  I see Dirk Caber’s ass being fucked on the big screen.  I think back to when I got to fuck him at my first Fornication event in Chicago.  I am instantly hard and dripping—knowing just how that ass up on the big screen television feels on my cock.  And how it tastes!

In moments, a man appears at my side.  He is my age, with rather long dark blond hair.  The guy is medium height and he’s maintained his body well over the decades.  He only has eyes for my wet cock.

“Sir, may I suck it?”

I nod.  I like his attitude.

He kneels and gives me a very good blow job.  Other men gather to watch the live sex.  My sucker pulls off me with a satisfied sigh.  He nods to me and leaves.  An older man, who watched the whole thing from just behind me, is right there.

“My turn?”  he asks.

I nod.  He kneels a little more slowly.  A bald man, in a neighboring chair, leans forward and watches intently.  This new cocksucker is just as adept.   And he remembers my balls.  I help him up, when he realizes I won’t be shooting anytime soon.  He makes a beeline to the bald guy.  “You have to suck that dick,” he whispers, but loud enough for me to hear it.

The bald guy seems unsure.  His partner insists. 

I watch the movie.  Dirk is now on his back, taking a different cock.

The bald guy arrives.  “My partner says I should try sucking you.”

“Please.”  (I love men who want to share with their partners!)

He gets on his knees.  He is perhaps not as proficient as the first two men, but he is still good.  Each time he takes me to the root, the bulge in his shorts gets bigger.  He stops when his knees tell him to—and rushes off to find his partner to compare notes.

The blond guy is back.  “Would you fuck my face this time?’

“Sure.”

We move behind the couch.  He kneels, with a wall from one of the glory hole rooms behind him.  I start easy, a slow stroke and only two thirds of my cock. 

“Give it to me,” he mumbles with his mouth full. 

I do.  Harder and harder.  He grunts his approval each time I speed up or go deeper.  He chokes.  And he reacts as if I’ve given him the best gift possible. 

We take a mini-break, and we do it again.  Hard and fast.  This time his head hits the wall on the last two strokes.  His face glows—and again—he thanks me.

We take a break.  In ten minutes or so, I do it all again with him.  He chokes.  I pull those long strands of deep throat spittle out of him.  I wrap them around my cock and make him take me again.  I look down.  His cock head is peeking out from the hem of his Bermuda shorts, angry and red and drooling.

I fuck his face some more.  I would love to make him shoot from my repeated deep assault of his mouth. 

I fuck and fuck.

He gags.  And wants a break. 

I go off and play with a fourth man…

*

“Will you fuck me?”

It’s the face fuck guy. 

“Sure.  Can be use the exam table?”

“Naw, I hate guys watching me get fucked.”  He leads me into the middle cabana booth.

“Everybody saw me fuck your mouth.  What’s the difference?”

“It’s my ass.  I don’t want ‘em to see.”

He strips and lies on the bench provided.  This makes him far too low for me to get into him.  I go to my knees.  The floor here is rough concrete.  I know my knees won’t take it.

“Can we try you on all fours?”

“So, you can fuck me like a dog?”

Well, yes, actually.

He gets up and bends over while standing and holding the back of the bench.  He’s the perfect height.  The moment I move behind him he kneels on the bench, lowering his ass a good few inches.  I lube up.  I go to my haunches to rim him.  Whoa.  There is no way I am putting my face there.

“Open me with your fingers.  I hate rimming.”

I tell him I can tell he’s not ready for a fuck.  I make myself sound apologetic.

“Bull shit. I cleaned out.”

“Well, things must have shifted…”

“You just don’t want to fuck me.  Lose your hard on?”

“I will if I fuck in a dirty ass.”  I feel like I want to plunge my finger in there and show him what I smelled.  But I don’t.  I just stuff my now wilting erection into my pants.  I leave the cubicle.

“Loser…” he mutters—but loud enough for me to hear it…

Why do guys argue about their clean out?  Even the best cleaning can fail after time. 

I mutter to myself as I go to the washroom and rinse the extra lube off my cock.

I am in no mood to stay now.  I head home…