Northern Indiana—May, 2025
It was
time to head into Chicago for IML. After
my mixed bag of bookstore experiences, I did nothing else until the Friday when
I left on the trip. I think I have
mentioned I was not headed to the host hotel.
I find, as I age, that I can’t sleep when I am there. The idea that I might be ‘missing out’ on
something is too strong. And the noise
of the place—100’s of men on the prowl…
This
year, my IML plans included attending the piss party, seeing fuck buds the next
night and then attending the Fornication Party, where I knew I’d be ravaging
Keshawn (as his belated birthday present). I left on Friday, with a stop along
the way in mind. While speaking to the
Cub from Indiana (mentioned in the last post), he had told me that he loved the
blackout night at the bookstore we both visit in northern Indiana. They were held
every Friday night. It fit right in with
my plans for heading to the city in stages, so I decided to give it a try…
I find my
hotel for the night. I eat a light
dinner and arrive at the video store around 7:30pm. There are a number of cars in the lot. I go in and pay the fee. I get a handful of tokens for the booths as
well as admittance into the ‘theatre.’ I
go past the drape in the back wall. The
booths and restroom are to the left and the theatre to the right. I go piss, make the circuit of booths (many closed
and occupied). Nowhere does it seem much
darker than on a usual day. I walk into
the theatre.
A naked
man is writhing on all fours, stroking his cock. He is tall and thin, with shaggy hair. Around 35.
His very white skin is covered in tattoos. His cock is long and thin. I sit on the one bench facing the screen
where a Gangbang Creampie video is on repeat.
I take out my cock. It hardens as
I watch his undulating ass while he fucks his fist.
He finally
becomes aware of my presence. “Fuck my ass, Daddy…” he moans.
“Come suck
my cock…”
He crawls
across the floor to me, his ass undulating.
He takes me into his mouth. He’s
good. Not great, but incredibly eager. He slobbers all over my cock. He pulls off.
“Fuck me.” He turns, wriggling
his butt at me, reaching back and pulling the right cheek to the side so I can
see his tight looking pucker.
“Stand up.”
He
does. I do, too. I lead
him to the side bench. There is a low
wall behind it. I tell him to lean on
it. I grease up my cock. I work into him as he squeals. This brings men to watch us. He is tight and hot and wet. I fuck him slow, building to a hard fuck that
stops his squeal as he has to work to catch his breath.
I pull
out. I am covered. Not a little.
Covered. I find the paper towel
in my pocket, wrap my shitty cock up and work to clean it in the restroom. With enough soap, I scrub until it’s
clean. I go back. He’s still there, begging to be fucked. The room clears as I return but for the naked
man. I ask him if he’d cleaned out.
I find out
he’s fresh out of prison where sex always happened in the shower— “and nobody
cared”. I tell him about cleaning his
ass. I talk about how fucking in the
grit of his feces is not a good idea for either of us. I tell him to search YouTube for videos on
how to do it, as this is unacceptable here.
He actually listens. And promises
to do it before he comes back. He sucks
my cock again as penance…
*
Naked man
is gone. A young African American is
standing behind my bench. He reaches
down and hefts my cock. “I want this,”
he whispers, “but let’s find a booth.” We
go into one of the bigger ones without a gloryhole. He is on his knees the moment after he locks
the door and I feed some tokens into the machine. The light from the screen shows just how
young this young man is. The light from
the screen loves the shine of his hair, giving him something of a halo as he
takes my dick to the root on the first try.
His mouth is one of those with extra room and feels terrific. His thick tongue is all over me. Using every trick he knows.
“Do my
balls.”
He does,
hoping that is the key to getting my load.
I can see the concentration on his face.
The yearning. He licks and sucks
them. He goes back to my shaft. He finally needs to stand up. He has a great dick, not as thick as mine,
but likely the same length. I sit on the
bench in the booth and take him in my mouth.
“Damn,
Daddy, you know how to do it.”
I grunt,
taking him as deeply as possible into my mouth, the tightly curled hairs of his
bush, tickling my nose. I pull off him,
keeping his dripping head in my mouth.
My tongue swirls around him and burrows into the piss slit. And it’s over. He spews his twenty-something mega load onto
my tongue and down my throat. His hands
grab my shoulders for support. I clean
him up, so there is no need for any tissue or paper napkin.
“I still
want that load—next time,” he tells me, tucking his cock away…
*
The cum
switch has been thrown. I want
more. I go to the theatre. I sit and stroke. The curtains open and a hot Italian in his 50’s
comes in, his thick dick swinging. He
gives a low whistle as he sees mine. “Hot,
man!”
I ask if I
can suck his cock. “Sure, though I just
came in some dude’s mouth.” I don’t
care. I want him in my mine. I suck the last drip out of him. He takes off after a few minutes of seeing if
I can get him hard again.
An older
man arrives. He sits next to me. He grabs my dick, too tightly. I tell him to ease up. He does.
He strokes. Eventually he takes
me in his mouth. He has no idea what to
do. I stand up and fuck his face. This makes him take out his own tiny cock and
stroke it hard.
I pull out
of his mouth and slap his face with my wet dick. “I’m gonna cum,” he says in a strangled
voice. I dip down and take the dribble
of cum he unleashes. He leaves quickly.
I’m
alone. It’s not that late, but it seems
most men here use the booths and don’t play in the more public theatre. I stroke.
A young
Latino comes in. He nods to me and moves
behind the low wall. He disappears from
view. I go investigate. He’s sitting on a chair. He beckons me closer and begins to suck. He moans.
I hear him unzip and he keeps sucking.
He has a great tongue, and I tell him so. This makes him work harder on me.
I grab the
sides of his head and begin fucking his face.
He groans and lets me do it. I
hear him beating his dick in time to my thrusts. I pull out, catching my breath.
“I want
you to do that to my ass,” he says. “But
not here.”
He hates
the first booth we find. And the second. Finally, he leads me to a small cramped one,
again with no gloryhole. He strips. My erection has gone down slightly with all
the running from one place to the next.
“What happened?”
he demands.
“It’ll be hard
the moment I tongue your ass.”
“I don’t
like that.”
He
turns. My finger plays around the
outside of his hole and my cock plumps.
“Well,
lick it,” he demands.
I don’t
get the mixed messages, but I go to my knees and tongue this perfectly shaped,
lightly haired ass. My cock is rampant
on contact. He groans with my tonguing. Maybe no one has ever done it right. He moans again.
“Oh, no!!!”
he wails. He is shooting all over the
floor. I keep eating his perfect butt
and let my jizz join his on the sticky floor…
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