Watching, Waiting and Hoping

 Near Home—October, 2024

My work trip to Indiana was looming.   I knew I would have little playtime for the next two weeks.  It had only been two days since I got off in the play detailed in the last two posts.  My balls, as I packed my suitcase, urged me to stop and go in search of men.  It was the Saturday afternoon, before I left the next day.  What a good way to prepare for my time away, right?

 

There are two men in the room, the Talker and a big man I don’t know.  I sit in my usual chair.  The man I don’t know is over against the wall that leads to the rest room.  The Talker was in my row, several seats away.  I unzip.  The Talker gestures in disgust at the other man.  I can’t see the problem.  He is avidly watching the straight video and either groping or jerking, I can’t quite tell.

And then the guy takes a hit of poppers.  He screws the cap on and actively begins to jerk what must be a very small penis as I can’t see it at all—only his beefy hand.  After about twenty seconds he makes an odd, but loud, guttural sound with each breath, then his head lolls back and he is passed out, with his eyelids twitching.  Only to awake in another twenty seconds and act as though nothing has happened.

The first time I watch, it’s a little frightening.  The second time the exact same routine is a little laughable.  The tenth time he does it, it is annoying as hell…

I try to jerk.

Now he stops the poppers for a bit.  He gropes himself.  He now makes the same guttural sound any time something ‘hot’ happens on the television screen.  And it’s a good scene.  He is very vocal.  And then he unscrews the cap and begins the whole process again.

The Talker comes and sits next to me.  “For the last hour…” he says, indicating the guy.  We watch as the poppers hit and in moments he passes out.

“I wanted to thank you for telling that hot bearded guy to suck me while you fucked him the other day.  That was hot!”

I nod.

“Let me thank you….” And he goes to the floor.

He makes my cock feel good.  Wet and ready.  The Groaner looks over at us, craning around as he hears the sounds of real sex.  I can’t tell from his expression if he is envious or offended.  The large man takes another hit.  He’s out longer this time.  I nudge the Talker.  I’m worried.  Just as the Talker gets to his feet, the guy revives.  He sits there in a daze.  And then, realizing he’s had more than enough, leaves the room on unsteady feet.

The Talker has a few more choice words for the guy before getting back on his knees and giving me round two.  When his knees tire, he goes out to the store, to talk to the cashier he knows best.

I stroke my wet cock for a long time.

I consider going.  But the porn is decent.  I zone out a little and just pleasure myself.

The door opens.  It is the light skinned Black man who loves my dick, but doesn’t really know what to do with it.  (He is the gentleman who took four inches in his ass, and told he couldn’t believe he’d taken my entire length.  He hadn’t, not even quite half of it…)

He comes over.  We chat.  He pulls me up and leads me to a more secluded chair.  He kneels and begins to work on my cock.  His method is to grasp the shaft at the base.  With his bigger hands, he only has a few inches to work with in his mouth.  He bops his head up and down until it meets his fist around me. 

At first it feels quite good.  But it’s over and over.  Never changing anything.  I get bored quite fast.  I watch the movie, hoping to stay hard. 

Did I mention the slobber?  He won’t swallow—so any saliva my cock is producing in his mouth is drooled onto his fist or my shaft.  Soon we have quite the puddle of the floor.  And my pants.

“Try letting go and going a little deeper…”

He tries it.  Chokes.  And grasps my dick again.

The Talker comes back in.  He stands near us and watches.  The man on his knees dislikes this, but it doesn’t change how he works on me.  The Talker unzips, steps to my side and offers me his cock.  I take it into my mouth.  The man on his knees hates this—but says nothing, only pausing for the briefest moment to shoot me daggers with his eyes.

We go on like this.  The Talker gets bored, wilts and goes back to the retail counter to talk.  I hope this might inspire my sucker.  Nope.  Nothing changes.  I suggest he lick my balls, but they are covered with his spittle and he demurs. 

I finally say I need to piss.  I go into the rest room.  It’s not a total lie, I do need to empty my bladder.  I didn’t think to lock the door.  He follows me in—he is sure I have come in to fuck him in privacy. 

I keep pissing and ask him the time.

He tells me.

I tell him I had no idea how late it was (it’s not)—and need to get home to finish packing.

He sighs. 

I finish pissing and rinse my cock off.  He watches as I dry my hands, then my cock under the hot air drier…

*

Not the way I wanted this visit to go, but I guess the last visit was so good, it all balances out.  I wanted a steamy story to tell here, but I guess this is how you know I really do tell the truth…