Bookstore Saturday Two: "Even Bigger Than I Thought..."

Jackson—February, 2022

This picks up immediately after “You’re a Perv!”

 

I sit back down and stroke for a bit.  A few men come in to look, but not play.  The next one in is around my age.  He’s of medium height, with sparse grey hair.  He looks at me—and begins to strip.  Every article of clothing is taken off but his socks.  He folds them carefully and stows them under his chair.  His t-shirt is left on the seat for him to sit on.  His body has definitely gone soft, plus likely some Covid weight.  His cock is plumped, but not hard.   I take it all in, but I can’t take my eyes off his nipples.  They are huge.  Erect.  And pointing right at me.

He sits down, and rather listlessly strokes his dick.

Finally he looks at me—“Would you let me suck that magnificent piece of meat?”

I stand and walk over.  He reaches up, holding my cock at the base, just looking at it for a moment.  Then he guides me between his lips while his hands go to working his nipples.  He’s good.  I like to use men’s mouths my age or older.  Most of them have decades of technique.  This guy is good—but not quite as good as I hoped.  I knock his hand away from the closest nipple and twist it myself.

He grunts.  And I swear his sucking improves.  I get the other one in my other hand and tweak it.

“You can do that as hard as you want,” he tells me, coming up for air.

I was pretty sure of that, but it’s always good to know.  I twist and squeeze.  He sucks.  His cock stands up all on its own.  I let go of one nipple and grab the back of his head.  I start to fuck his face.  What thumbnail I have is grinding into the swollen flesh of his nipple.  He is whimpering around my cock.  In a good way.

Suddenly he pulls off me.  I wonder if he’s shot.  His cock is soft again and oozing, but no other load is evident.  He thanks me—and moves to get dressed.  I sit back down.  I love watching his face as the T-shirt goes on and the fabric rubs those over stimulated giant cones on his chest…

*

I wander—but come right back to my alcove and chair.  I have managed to catch the eye of a tall, handsome man somewhere in his 40’s.  I sit down—and in moments he comes in, too.  I get out my cock.

“That’s even bigger than I thought you’d have…” he says softly.  “May I?”

I nod.

He unzips himself as he kneels.  “It’s always the tall, skinny guys with the big dicks…”  I can’t disagree.  His mouth connects with my cock. He is fabulous.  I thought that bearded guy from the last trip here was great—but this man could give him lessons. 

His mouth is wet.  I sigh.

Active. 

With a great tongue.  He teases my piss slit and I moan.

There is just the right amount of suction.

I actually reach down and unobtrusively twist my balls—so I don’t shoot.

He pulls off my cock and, without direction, starts licking my swollen, hairy orbs.  It’s his turn to groan.  He stops long enough to say “You’ve been busy—I love the taste of ‘em.”  He goes right back to nuzzling them.  Licking them and only then, pulling them one at a time into his mouth.  Tonguing every wrinkled inch of them.

“Let me fuck your mouth.”  I stand up—and the hot man takes my place in the chair.  I begin slowly, but when I can see he can take me deep with each stroke, I give it to him.  All of it.  His cock has come out.  He is now beating it as I thrust into him.

We change back up—me in the chair and him between my splayed legs.  He’s taking me deeper now all on his own.   I close my eyes.  I think I may be giving him a load soon.  Suddenly my face is slapped with a very hard cock.  I turn and it’s the Marathoner.  He feeds me his dick with a grin.  The angle is terrible for me to do much—and made worse by the thickness of his cock.  Handsome man seems to love that I have a dick in my mouth—and seems to have no interest in sharing it with me.  He’s quite content with mine.

The Marathoner pulls out of me abruptly. He turns and grinds his ass into my face.  My tongue easily finds his hole.  I work him open until my tongue is poking deeply into his once tight pucker.

Handsome man seems to love this—he is working faster and faster on me.

And suddenly I know why.  He stands up, I turn and he feeds me his dick just in time to shoot a massive load.   I swallow and I still can’t help but let some run out of my mouth and into my beard.

The Marathoner pulls up his pants and leaves the room. (He won’t want a mouth full of cum licking his hole.)  Mr. Handsome pulls me up out of the chair and kisses me, licking some of his seed out of my beard.  It’s a hot intimate moment—tuning out the blaring porn and the other men milling around.

 “See you around,” he tells me as he does up his pants, after seeing his cock has been cleaned so well, there are no last drops of cum.  “I want you again.”

But so in the five weeks since, I have never seen him…

 

One more installment to come/cum…in a willing ass.

Trading Loads at the Bookstore

 Jackson—January, 2022

After the recent ass eating fun with the Marathoner along with my breeding of the vocal young man, I suppose it was inevitable that my dick would lead me back to the bookstore where it happened.  I returned at the very end of the month.  The parking lot snow piles had melted some, giving room for more cars.  It was crowded…

 

I make the tour of the entire lounge.  There are plenty of men—and not a scrap of action.  I go to the alcove in the gay area.  Both chairs are empty and I sit in the one that puts my back to the hallway.  The bigger gay section has one man in it who I recognize and remember that I have never see him engage in any kind of play here.

I unzip and pull it out.  This spooks the guy in the bigger area.  He stands up and leaves.  The porn here is average, but I am horny.  My cock stands right up.  I keep hearing the main door open and close.  I am guessing a lot of men are taking it to the booths downstairs to suck or fuck. I have been aware of men making the same circuit I had done—but my dick has failed to tempt anyone.

I stroke some more.  I consider buying a ticket to the booths, but I remember hating how little room there is to play in them.  So I stay.  And stroke.

A man has come in.  He shows himself for a half second as he looks at my dick.  He’s masked.  Likely my age.  Decent body under the winter coat.  He seems to be gone again.  I stroke.  And then I feel it.  A hard cock is prodding my shoulder.

I turn slightly.  It’s Mr. Mask.  His just over average white dick is the one poking my shoulder blade.  I hunker down slightly in my seat, take off my mask and begin to suck him.  The guy groans—just barely audible.  He begins a thrusting action into my mouth.  His cock is dripping precum like crazy.  I know he’s going to blow his load as fast as he can before he’s ‘caught’ by some wandering guy.

And I’m right.  Mr. Mask grabs the back of my head and holds me in place.  His cock doesn’t exactly explode with jizz—it sort of oozes out the cum.  But it’s a big load.  He seems to think it’s the best sex ever.  He pats me on the shoulder, zips up and leaves.

*

I am alone for a little while.  Then I zip up and make the tour again.  The talkative Latino with the problematic clean out has arrived.  We chat a little.  He goes to the booths and I go back to the alcove.  This time I’m in the opposite chair—so I can see all the traffic arriving to the two gay video areas.  A 30-something white guy with a terrific beard comes in.  He sits in the chair I was in before.  He can’t take his eyes off my dick.

“I’d really like to suck that cock.  Please?”

I nod.  He comes over and kneels between my splayed legs.  He takes me to the root the moment his lips touch me.

I inhale deeply.  Fuck!  He’s good.  Silky mouth.  Effortless deep throat.  Thick, active tongue.  The beard on my balls. 

“Damn, you’re good,” I tell him.  “I don’t say that very often…”

He grunts, pleased.  The noise in his throat sends tingles through the length of my cock.

The Latino arrives.  He knows this guy devouring my dick.  He says so and tells me I must be enjoying it.  Then he kneels behind the guy, pulls the cocksuckers unbuttoned pants down, exposing his hairy ass.  The Latino proceeds to rim him.

Fuck.  I want that ass.  With either my tongue or cock, I don’t care which.  The Latino soon tires of the rimjob—when he realizes, even with the extra stimulation, I’m not going to blow a load easily.  He takes off.

My cocksucker needs to get off his knees, too.  He stands.  He moves to the couch in the bigger room.  He sits, with his pants around his ankles.  “Let me blow you some more—I want your load.”

I walk over and feed him my dick.  The bearded sucker has a nice thick cut cock himself.  I still want his ass and decide to see if I can get it.  I finally pull out of his mouth.  He leans back on the couch.  I go to my knees and take him into my mouth.  I manage to wet my middle finger as I start to suck and it begins to worm into the sucker’s tight, hairy hole.  He gasps—but he doesn’t tell me to stop.

I am already at the first knuckle of my long bony finger.  He is breathing fast.  ‘Come on,’ I think, ‘say you’d rather have my dick in there.’  I move to licking his balls.  He strokes his own cock and my entire finger slides into him.  “Oh, fuck me,” he whispers.

My head comes up—just in time to catch his explosion of cum.  I swallow all of it, letting my finger slide out of his ass.

He grins, cleans up, thanks me and says he may be back for more.

I go eat my lunch out in my car…

*

It is likely 45 minutes since the cum appetizer and then my sandwich.  I am back in the chair in the alcove—the one with the view.  I have a fat, uncut cock in my mouth belonging to this guy who looks like he drives truck.  He is constantly telling me:  “I’m gonna give you my load.  Be ready for it.  My big load…” and so on.

There is movement behind us.  It’s the bearded cocksucker.  He has come back.  He goes for my exposed, neglected dick while I continue to suck.  The writings on the wall—with his great mouth and a thick, dripping, foreskinned cock in my mouth, I will be shooting like a fucking adolescent. 

I concentrate on servicing the guy in my mouth—but the cocksucker is so good, I can’t quite do it.  I can feel my balls tighten.  I work harder on the guy in my mouth.  He seems close.  It would be perfect if we could blast at the same time.  I try hard to make that happen.

But it’s too much.  I erupt deep in the bearded guy’s throat.  The trucker-type pulls out of my mouth as I convulse and hang onto the bearded guy’s head.  The bearded cocksucker stays there, just working his throat—milking me dry.

I finally have to pull out.  I am actually speechless.  And panting.

Bearded cocksucker comes up, I think to kiss me.   But it’s not my mouth—it’s to take the Trucker’s load down his throat, so it doesn’t spew all over my chest…

“Do It. Fuck Me. Fill Me.”

 Jackson—January, 2022

I kept to myself, or with trusted fuck buds, most of January while the new variant was ravaging parts of my state.  I finally felt comfortable enough to go back to a bookstore.  I chose the one that had more space so we were not on top of each other—unless we chose to be…

 

It’s Saturday afternoon.  The parking lot is busy.  The huge piles of plowed snow reduce the size of it, but there are still more cars here than I expected.  I go in and buy my ticket for the lounge—where there are six or seven viewing stations for different types of porn.

“Sure you don’t want the combo—so you can use the booths downstairs?”

I assure her that the lounge is fine.  She sighs.  I have seemingly offended her.  I smile and go in.  After all the sunshine on the snow outside, it seems darker than usual in here.  At first glance, I don’t see very many men—maybe that’s why she was trying to send me downstairs to the booths.  I make the tour to see.  There is one man watching the Trans porn. No one at the straight flicks or the all girl video.  There is an older guy watching young men fuck women older than 50.  The bondage screen has no viewers.  I go down the long hallway to the gay area—where there are two screens.  One man is in the larger room and another in the smaller alcove.  And I know one of them—socially but not sexually.  We nod to each other.  He quickly puts away his cock and heads to another area.

I sit in the bigger room.  I unbutton and stroke.  The porn is indifferent.  I hear the door to the lounge squeak open and shut.  I wait as the man makes the same rounds I did.  He arrives.  He looks at me and unzips before sitting in a chair to my left.  It’s the Marathoner:  the runner who is a huge cocked top, but loves me to eat his ass as he strokes.

We nod to each other.  His cock is likely only half an inch longer than me, but he is much thicker.  The few times I have tried to suck it, I am feel like I am all teeth on him—there is no way to cover them with my lips, my mouth is so stretched.  But he doesn’t really want that from me anyway…

He stands up and feeds me his dickhead just long enough to get it wet.  He turns and bends—his ass inches from my face.  It is a muscle butt. He is obviously still running.  I poke my tongue dead center of his pucker.  He gasps and strokes harder.

“You’re the only guy who eats me…” he whispers from under his mask.

I go to town.  I am up and down his fairly hairy crack.  Each time I pass his hole I jab it with my tongue.  And it’s beginning to open for me.  I am leaning across the arm of a sofa to get at him.  I can connect—but it’s awkward.  He finally senses it and comes around front so I can have better access.  I spit and prod and lick. 

The man from the small room has come out to stroke and watch.  The Marathoner does not like this.  He gives him a withering stare and the guy returns to his porn.  I hold on to the Marathoner’s hips and begin tongue fucking him.  He is stroking his cock and moaning loudly.

Suddenly he pulls away from me.  I think he must be about to shoot.  No.  He is trying to sit on my super hard cock.  What the fuck!?  He prods himself with me four or five times.  I don’t ever go in—but it makes his hole open up. Then he repositions himself for more licking.  Fuck.  I can taste my precum on his hole.  The old Marathoner would freak out if he knew that.  I know he’s on PrEP now—is he occasionally bottoming?

I stroke my wetter cock and continue to rim.  I find my lube bottle and lube my dick for better stroking.   Suddenly he pulls away again and does the same bounce on me.  He groans in the back of his throat with each bounce. My cockhead is going farther into him.  He groans.  I am about to enter him…

And a guy walks into our room.  The Marathoner is off my cock and out of the room, doing up his pants as he goes.  I don’t see him the rest of the day.

*

I have moved to the Trans porn.  The Latino who I met here and who came to the house (but could never get clean) is giving me head.  His mouth is great today.  I idly wonder if he can taste the Marathoner’s hole on me.

He asks if I want to fuck him.  I decline…and he goes off to the arcade downstairs.

*

I move to the small gay area.  It is a good 20 minutes since I have seen anyone else.  A young blond in a baseball cap comes in.  College age and slender.  He looks at my cock and sits in the chair on the other side of the room.  He pulls out a slender six incher.  I stroke to the porn, he strokes to me.  He has gotten rid of his winter coat before sitting down.  But now he stands up and gets rid of his shirt.  Then his pants—all tossed in a pile on the floor.  He is now in nothing but thick socks and underwear pulled down under his balls for stroking freedom.

We stroke.  Now we are eyeing each other, not the porn.

“Daddy, can I suck you?”

I nod.

He gets on all fours and crawls between my legs.  His ass is a true bubble butt, straining against the tightness of the fabric.

“Lick my balls first,” I tell him.

He does.  With lots of spittle left behind.

He works his way up my shaft, ovals and proceeds to give me really good head.—but we both know what the other wants.

“Fuck me?”

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t use condoms—I want you raw.”

This makes my cock drool.  I let him lick it off before I stand up.  He gets rid of the underwear and kneels in the chair I was sitting in, presenting his 20-something ass to me.  I kneel and lick it.  This makes him moan.  He is very lightly haired—nothing in the crack, just a light fuzz circling his hole.  Totally the opposite from the Marathoner—which turns me on even more.

“Stick your raw dick in me.”

I stand up and slap my cock on his wet crack.

“Give it to me,” he moans.

I prod his hole.  Just the slightest pressure of my cock head makes it flower open.  The boy obviously likes anal.  “You like dick in your hole, don’t you?”

“Only raw dick, Daddy.  And only from real men.”

I have sunk halfway into him.  He stops talking and begins panting.   I work the rest of me into him. 

“Fuck…” he hisses.  “So much cock…”

And it’s true.  He is filled.  The look of his butt taking me fully is intoxicating.  I begin to fuck.

“Do it.  Fuck me.  Fill me.”

It becomes a chant for him.  A piece of the phrase on every stroke of my cock.

“Do it.”

I grind my pubes into his hairless butt and pull almost all the way out.

“Fuck me.”

I pick up the tempo.  I know this is not going to be a long fuck.

“Fill me.”

“That what you want?”

“Cum in me.  Make me yours…”

I am damn close.  I fuck him faster.  Suddenly his ass clamps down on me.  He squeals as he unloads his balls all over the seat of the chair. 

“FILL ME!”

And I do.  Spurt after spurt.  Giving him just what he wanted…

"You Still Eat Ass?"

 South Central Michigan—March, 2021

I went back to the same bookstore one other time in March.  It was all but deserted…

But being me, I still had some fun…

 

I am sitting and stroking to the Straight porn in the main area.  There is a cross dresser, hidden from view, in the Trans area.  I can’t tell if he wants to play or is just luxuriating in watching porn fully dressed.  There is a man in the Gay area, too, but he has fallen asleep.  I sit and stroke to two guys on the big screen TV—one Caucasian and one Black— working over an incredibly petite Asian woman.  She is currently taking the two huge dicks together.  I love seeing them rub together as they plow her.

The door from the lobby opens and closes—hidden from me by a divider wall.  The newcomer rounds the corner.  He is a man with a shock of silver hair.  His mask covers most of his face.  His body is slim and he quickly removes his heavy coat as he checks the Trans area.  He walks back and his eyes see my cock for the first time.  He slows—but goes on the other side of the room to check out the gay area.

A moment later, he comes back and sits on the couch that is next to my chair.  He sits on the side away from me—so he can see me more easily and I him.  He unzips and takes out a beer can of a dick, with a thick looking foreskin.  He fists it, sometimes looking at the porn, more often at me.  I stop, shift the mask and drink from my water bottle, then settle the mask back in place.  My drinking gives him a full view of my dick.

And he loves it.

I watch him jerk harder.

Moments later he rises and comes over to me.  “Can I suck that?”

I nod and he kneels.  His mask comes off and he goes to work.  It is not the best blow job I’ve ever had, but nice.  And he loves what he’s doing—which makes up for the occasional lapse in technique.  He continually strokes himself—sliding that mass of extra skin over his glans. 

He gets immense extra credit for tonguing my balls without being told.  And he doesn’t suck them into his mouth until they are thoroughly wet—and then they slide right in.  He even pulls me forward and licks my taint…stopping just before my tight pucker.

This last really excites him.  His hand is working his cock furiously.  It makes a repetitive wet, slick sound we can here over the squeals of the woman on the screen.

“Don’t waste your load,” I tell him.

He grunts.  And instantly stands up.  I rip off my mask.  His thick cock jabs into my mouth.  His foreskin does not retract, he just spews through it.  When he’s done, I use my hand to pull it back and clean his dick of all the stray cum.  He squirms a little—but let’s me do it.

He thanks me and leaves.  A steep admission price for his maybe 15 minutes…

*

Almost an hour later I am ready to go.  There has been no other play.  The porn keeps changing loops—often cutting off the cum shots.  But the door opens again.  A tall, lithe man comes in jeans and windbreaker.  He looks vaguely familiar but with his mask I can’t really tell.  He may think the same—he nods at me as he makes the tour—only to find we are now all alone in the place.  He comes back and sits on the couch.  He pulls out his dick.  It is every bit as big as mine.  And maybe a shade longer.  We stroke in silence.  He has pulled up his shirt to expose a tight and tautly muscled chest…fuck, he’s familiar.

“You still eat ass?

And now I know—even with his mask on.  He’s the runner—dubbed the Marathoner on here—who back when I started the blog had been a regular, but who I haven’t see him in years.  (Eight years it turns out when I check on here later.)  He often lets me suck his massive cock for a moment and then wants his hole tongued.  No fingers, no dick, no fucking.  Just my mouth and my rimming skills.

“No one eats ass like you used to…”

I get up.  I kneel and go for his dick head.  He pulls it away and pushes my face down into his hairy nut sack.  My tongue starts to caress the hairy orbs, using the same technique I had just experienced.  Instantly they pull up into his body.  His hand goes to my head.  He pushes me down to his hole, bringing his legs up to his chest.  It is as tight as ever.  I lick across it, reveling in his hairy taint.

I get the first groan from him.  “You filthy fucker—you know just how to do it.”

I burrow in.  I spit repeatedly on his hole.  I prod at it, my tongue pointed and hard.  Suddenly it opens and I sink into him.

He grunts.  Now, as my tongue begins to fuck him, he begins to whimper—jerking his dick with long, hard strokes.  I plant my entire mouth on his pucker and suck.  I am rewarded by his ass lips swelling with blood and protruding into my mouth.  He moans again, reaches down and pulls my head tighter into his ass—cutting off my air.

Finally, his legs come down and I can breathe.  “Turn over, on all fours,” I tell him.  His head hits the wall when we try it on the couch so we switch to my chair which is pulled out at an angle..  His whole hairy butt is presented to me.  I go back to running my tongue down his entire crack.  He moans and jerks.  His balls have re-emerged with gravity.  I lick them until they pull back into his body. 

I ravage his hole again.

I pry his cock from his steely grip and lick the back side length of it.  He is juicing.  I use my finger to get the pearl of pre-cum off it.  I smear it on his hole.  He feels it and whimpers again.  My tongue pushes it deep into his hole.  I spit and push that into him, too.

He is stroking again.  I think he is on the verge.

I burrow in.  He fires.  Over and over.  A huge puddle of cum on the leatherette upholstery. 

He gets up gingerly to avoid the pool of jizz and thanks me.  He all but runs to the bathroom to wash.

I look at the cum.  My finger plays in it for a moment before it finds its way into my mouth…

"Fuck Me With Your Tongue"

Near Home—December, 2013

I don’t know if I’ve written about the Marathoner before.  I have seen him since the blog began, but there have been long stretches when I don’t hear from him at all.  He needs me for just one thing—my tongue in his ass.  I don’t call him The Marathoner for the length of our sex sessions, but because he is a runner.  A committed one.  He has an incredibly hard, hairy body, with not an ounce of fat.  He’s tall, lean and in his middle 40’s.  He goes through long bouts of serial monogamy when I won’t hear from him for months at a time.  Then a text will come.  After the ‘how are yous?’ he’ll get down to it.  “I need you to lick my ass.   When are you available?”

I got one of those messages in early December.  We don’t live close to each other, so we decided to split the difference and meet at the bookstore.  He likes to show off occasionally, and you know that I do….

I’m there first.  We’ve agreed to meet in the straight theatre.  The place is deserted.  The movie is especially loud with no bodies to help absorb the sound.  I feel my hardening mound through my 501s.  I watch very young, petite women on screen trying to wrap their mouths around black cocks that would make even men like the Cum Hound choke.  Then the door buzzes.  In he comes.  It’s the Marathoner.  He is looking as fit as ever, though I didn’t remember that slight greying at his temples.  He sits on the couch beside me.  We make small talk for a moment.  He tells me the current boyfriend is overseas.  “Not that he eats my ass.  No one eats it like you do.” 

The Marathoner takes off his shoes and tucks them under the couch.  He stands and drops his pants.  He folds them and places them on top of his shoes.  “I want your tongue in me so badly.”  (I should perhaps say that The Marathoner is a top.  He has never bottomed.  Ever.  Not with rubbers and certainly not bare.  But this he will allow himself to do.)  His cock is hardening as he makes that statement.  It is big.  Very big.  I always forget how big he is.  I think of him as the same size as me, but he’s not.  He has another half inch in length.  And likely another half an inch or more in girth.  I get the head in my mouth but that’s about it.  And it’s not what he wants anyway.  He wants my tongue in his ass.  To fuck him with my tongue as if it were a cock…

I spend just long enough on his dick head to get a dollop of precum.  I then turn him around so he can kneel on the couch.  I’m on the cold floor—my face inches from his furry ass.  I don’t lick around the hole, getting him ready.  I harden my tongue and drive it deep the first thing.  I tell him he has his own precum up his hole.  He moans loudly.  Now I get down to eating hole.  Swabbing it.  Spitting on it.  Swallowing.  Teasing it.  Drilling it with my tongue.

“Lie down.”  He’s in charge tonight.  He stands up and has me lay down on the naugahyde couch.  My head is right at the end.  He stands, his back to me and the couch, and lowers himself on to my face.  I can go deeper this way.  And I show him just how deep my tongue can go.  He is panting now, like he’s run a mile.  And sweating.  Even with the chilly room.   I eat him out until my jaw is sore.  Tongue.  Lick.  Slurp.  And swallow.

The Marathoner never touches me, except once as I stand up, to heft my cock and mentally compare it to his own.  He drags a chair over.  Its seat is higher than the couch; I won’t be bent over so to get behind him.  His rather bony knees are spread on the seat as wide as they can go.  I stand behind him.  I mess with his head for just a moment by slapping my wet cock on his right ass cheek.  I sink down and dive in.  The Marathoner stops jerking and reaches back, spreading his cheeks apart.  I slip in.  Is it really deeper than on the couch?  At this moment it feels it, to both of us.  It makes my cock drool and The Marathoner grunt.  He’s talking dirty now.  I am sure he’s close.

The door buzzes.  With all the speed of a sprinter, he is sitting sedately on the couch with his shirt tail covering his crotch as the man walks in.  I sit down, too.  The new comer sits against the wall.  He’s also mid 40’s and looks like he’s been out on a construction site.  He wastes no time pulling his cock out.  We expose ours.  He is average, but with the two of us, he looks far smaller.  The Marathoner nudges me to get back on the floor.  He won’t let me suck him, but wants his balls licked.  I get between his bare legs and do what he wants.  The Marathoner pats the seat next to him.  The construction type moves over—watching me work on The Marathoner’s balls.  The Marathoner tentatively reaches over and feels the guy’s cock up.  The next thing I know, my head is pushed onto the new guy’s cock.  Really?  This is new.  In no time at all the guy unloads in my mouth—all the attention being too much for him.  I swallow the cum, thinking we are done.  There is no way The Marathoner will let me tongue his hole after a mouthful of jizz.  The construction type mops up fast and leaves.

In seconds after the door closes, The Marathoner is kneeling back on the chair.  “Eat me out, man!”  I get back on my knees and dive in.  The Marathoner is extra noisy now.  He’s close and doesn’t care who knows it.  “Fuck me with your tongue.  Just like it was your dick.”  His ass is slamming into my face.  I actually worry about getting a bloody lip.  His hole quivers.  He pulls away from me and shoots all over the floor.  Massive puddles.  He can’t have shot for days and days.

He’s all business afterward.

“Take care.  See you soon,” he tells me as he wraps his cock in a napkin and tucks it into his underwear.  He’s dressed and gone.

I wait to see who else will show up.  I have had one taste of jizz—I want more.

I watch the movie.  I am so hard I’m hurting.  My eyes keep sifting from the movie to the glistening pools on the floor. 

I jerk. 

No-one.

I look again.  In the shifting light from the video, the puddle of cum looks even bigger. 

I wait.

I bend over and run my index finger through the biggest blob of his cum. 

I hesitate.

I lick my finger clean...