Near Home—May, 2024
So, after the Monday bust at the bookstore
that I detailed in the last post, I knew that at least I had good sex coming. Kieran, the married bear who is such a good cocksucker
was scheduled for Wednesday. But he cancelled,
citing that he had to help his son. Well,
ok, there was also the newbie, who needed his hole opened and was so horny
about piss, due in on Thursday. But
suddenly his work got in the way of that.
Cancelled—and after some texting saying he wanted to reschedule, he went
totally quiet. I might have gone back to
my usual hunting ground right after he cancelled, but I waited until Friday,
thinking it might be better.
And indeed, it was. Not perfect, but good. And that was enough…
The straight theatre has six or seven men in it. I can’t sit in the cocksucker’s seat. I find one against the wall. There is a man standing against the back
wall. His thick dick is out and
hard. He doesn’t stroke it. He just stands there. Waiting?
With his expressionless face it’s hard to tell. A man, slightly younger than me with a shaved
head, is in the cocksucker’s seat. But
he doesn’t seem interested in that hard cock two feet from him. A man in front of me is obviously
stroking. I can’t see anything, but we
can all hear his moist hand beating his dick.
He looks only at the screen—so we all assume he wants to be left alone.
A man around my age comes in. I recognize him and am fairly sure we’ve
played. He is short and flashes a
terrific smile at me as he sits in the chair across the aisle from me. He takes his cock out instantly, working it very
fast to full erection.
There is something about the energy of the room that
keeps us apart. I nod to him, stand,
stuff my cock back in my pants and go next door. There is a younger bearded man here, his
pants around his ankles, stroking a very small cock. I sit and wait.
The door opens.
The guy with the terrific smile has followed me in. He stands against the back wall, in the
corner behind the entrance door, his cock out and—as I soon learn—drooling. I go to him and take the wet shaft in my
mouth. He sighs.
He let’s me suck. Then he fucks
my face a little. But his cock is not as
hard now. I figure it out. He needs to be sucking me. I stand.
He bends and his mouth sucks me deep into his throat. He’s good.
But he’s not going to get my load, ten minutes into my time here.
“You close?” he asks.
I tell him it feels great, but I’m not close.
“I am. You want
it?”
He straightens up.
His cock is rampant again from his sucking me. I go back to my knees and swallow his thick
load after just a little more tongue work.
He does himself up as I stand.
The young bearded man has moved around to watch.
As the guy with the smile leaves, the bearded guy asks
if he can suck. I let him. He is enthusiastic but not good. His teeth keep catching the edge of my cock
head. I tell him to lick my sweaty
balls. He is good at that. And loves the flavor. He never goes back to my dick—he stays right
there, licking my hairy sack and jerking his tiny dick. When I suggest we take a break, I notice
there is a pool of semen of the floor from his cock…
*
I go back to the straight theatre. Men have
shifted. The man with the hard cock (and
no takers) is gone. The guy with the shaved
head has moved to where I sat originally.
He still looks at me like he might want me, but can’t bring himself to
make a move. I sit in the cocksucker’s
seat.
A regular comes in.
He is my age and almost twice my weight.
He is a talker; he loves to critique the video. He sits next to me and does just that, groping
himself first, then replacing my hand in stroking my shaft.
The shaved head guy to the side watches us. The long-haired guy goes from stroking me to
leaning across me and sucking. It’s a
lousy angle. But it feels good enough to
let him continue. I finally ask my long-haired
sucker to take a break. The shaved head
guy stands. Is he finally going to ask
to suck me? Nope. He’s out the door. The long-haired guy follows him.
I am alone for a moment. The couple, who come here to both suck as
much dick as possible, make an appearance.
The better sucker—and the one who hates having my cock wet beforehand—smiles
at me and leaves. I trade blow jobs with
his shaved head partner. He does me
first. And, when he’s super hard from
sucking me, has me blow him. Neither of
us are trying for orgasm.
Always restless, he leaves to check in with his
partner. I go piss. When I return, there stands the guy with his
hard on jutting out of his pants. He
does not look at me as I pass him, or when I sit, or even when I pull out my
cock to jerk.
I fist my dick and he stands there, jutting straight
out. Once, after a huge facial on the
big screen television, he adjusts himself slightly, pulling his balls free from
behind the zipper. Is he just showing
off? Or does he want to be sucked? It’s an easy slide out of my seat and onto my
knees. If he rebuffs me—who really cares?
Without a word my mouth touches his cock. He does not look at me, make a sound or pull
away. I take him deep in my throat. He is thick enough to make me really work at
it. But I can instantly tell I am doing
something right, as his cock begins to precum constantly. I deep throat him again, and then concentrate
on his head, swabbing it with my tongue.
Drilling into his piss slit. My
hands have found his bull balls. I
stroke them as I suck. Over and over, my
fingers moving behind them to tantalize his perineum.
Then my tongue goes to his balls. My hand gently jerks his dick as I lick the
wrinkled sack. I still can’t get a sigh,
much less a moan, out of him. My tongue
on his nuts is increasing the already heavy precum flow. I move back to his cock. I do a repetitive deep throat on him—as if he
were fucking my face. Though he still
stands stock still.
And he’s there.
His load is mammoth. Jolt after jolt
of semen is spat into my mouth. I
swallow rapidly, not wanting to choke or let any get away. It’s an incredibly hot moment. A true reward.
He let’s me keep him in my mouth until he’s done. Until I’ve licked up every drop. Until he realizes there is nothing to mop up
with the handkerchief he’s found. Now he’s
talkative. He thanks me profusely. Tells me how good it was. And how much he needed it after a hard week.
He leaves. I
walk around. The store has emptied. It’s earlier than I usually leave, but I can’t
imagine anything better happening today.
I might not have shot—but I leave very satisfied…
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