For the past few years my standard Saturday morning routine has involved stopping by the adult bookstore to look for hot new mags. Only last week did I once again buy the required tokens to cruise the peep show booths. It seemed funny to be walking the boards once again, posing and keeping an eye cocked for an interested party.
As any veteran of the stalls will tell you, good fortune can come at the most unexpected times. What should be a hot time late on a Friday night can be a bust, while I have had some delicious feasts over the lunch hour with horney businessmen who unzipped the fly in their expensive suits for some quick bookstore cocksucking.
This morning while I wandered the maze of dimly lit booths I did spot a hot looking fellow making the run back to the main counter for tokens. He was a cunning specimen, 30-ish with a trim military look to him, showing a nice set of pecs under his T-shirt. His baseball cap and tight levis had the air of your average straight guy out on the town. The beard stubble under his dark mustache had a gritty sex appeal to it. He moved with a deliberate aggressive gait, a masculine and determined type.
My eyes offered an inviting look as he passed, but he briskly strutted back to the last door on the end, throwing the lock behind him. That is another peculiarity of bookstore cruising I'd missed--the sounds. There's the loud clank of tokens being deposited into the coin box, the ominous steps and creaking of the wooden planks as the anxious men traverse the hallways, and the cruel rattling of the door locks-- shutting out unwanted invitations for sex.
I moved back to the booth where the handsome stud had entered and pressed on the door, even though I had heard it being locked. It did not budge. Meandering around the maze I wondered if the college boy I'd scoped earlier would *ever* quit feeding the meter demon, wishing I could watch what he was doing behind the closed door, knowing the assistance I could offer his hard cock to give him pleasure. I listened carefully for his heavy breathing, perhaps some groaning or wet sounds of his hand in action.
But with another pass at the end of the hall I found, lo and behold, the door to the stall the hot man entered was now showing the tell-tale gap which indicated the latch was open. Hmmmm! My hand reached forward and slowly applied pressure to the door which creaked as it opened.
There he stood with his Cleveland Browns T-shirt reflecting the eerie light from the screen, his cap pulled forward hiding his eyes making his mustache even more prominent, and his hand stroking a very long and hard exposed cock protruding from his zipper. While I knew what it meant I paused a moment to savor the sight. Because of his rugged good looks and athletic build, he did have the appearance of possibly being a police officer so I didn't want to move too fast. On the other hand, the invitation was indeed a temptation which could not be refused.
"Hi!" I whispered through the doorway. "Hi" he grunted back, not looking up at all. "Want some company?" I queried, thinking that if he was going to turn and arrest me at least there was some discussion before I laid my hands on him and he consented with, "Sure". Good enough.
I swallowed my fear and entered the small booth, oblivious to the rattle as the door was locked behind me. Instinctively I pulled down my jeans and waved my own hard cock to see if he would touch me. The dripping head of my dick rubbed against his own hard-on causing a generous dollop of pre-cum to intermingle and leave those glistening threads to drip in the faint light.
He showed no interest in my own genitals so coupling that with the observation there was a straight fuck film on the screen, no doubt I just had a straight man who needed a blow job. Parking on the bench as he stood, my lips parted and slowly worked his firm cock down my throat. His dick was not only long, but nice and thick with pulsing veins that tickled the sides of my mouth as I tried to swallow that length all the way down. It was a challenge.
Sensing I was trying to grab at his balls, he undid his belt and dropped his levis to his knees allowing me to stroke his hairy scrotum. His crotch had a pleasing sweaty odor to it, as if he hadn't showered that morning just went to the bookstore for service. With my hand now grasping his nuts and the base of his shaft it was much easier to suck on his wet rod and massage between his legs for stimulation. My manstud remained absolutely silent--no moans or groans, no gasps of approval.
At this point I had to explore more of his body, even though I knew his only interest was in getting his rocks off. While continuing to lick and suck on his massive meat I slipped my hand up the front of his T-shirt to gleefully find a bearish hairy chest. My sucking became more intense as I worked my fingers through the dense mat of fur and rubbed his nipples. Damn! Even if this hunk arrested me I'd to be jacking off about this for days! My hand grabbed at his asscheeks which were smooth and firm.
The guttural slurps of his organ plunging deep into my throat were punctuated by the metallic clanking of tokens in the coin box. I moved my paw back to initiate a good rhythmic motion and briskly pumped his anxious member. There was no indication he was going to climax aside from a few quick jackrabbit strokes from his hips, then the distinctly milky, salty taste of fresh hot sperm started to shoot into my mouth.
I pulled back but kept my hand working as his load oozed from his cockhead and ran down my fingers. The booth which was already sweet with his crotch odor filled with the acrid scent of his cum. His cock went soft rather quickly so I instinctively tried to lap at his balls for some afterplay, but my head was forcefully pushed away. The straight man was now in his own process of denial that he'd just accepted a blow job from another man...(who enjoyed it immensely).
I stood and watched as he wiped up his cum onto his underwear, but even my attempts to fondle his dick one more time were repelled. Okay, I had done my job and was of no more use to him. With a quick turn as the door was unlatched, I did offer a foxy smile and simply said "Thanks!" as I exited back into the hallway.
Walking out of the bookstore into the bright daylight I hoped I'd adequately cleaned the jizz from my mustache but even if I hadn't there would have been pride in wearing my trophy the hot stud offered me. I continued on my way with content, knowing that hung fucker would long remember our encounter even if he couldn't admit it to himself right now.
And if you're reading this guy, I'll meet you next week. Same time, same place...last stall on the end.
As any veteran of the stalls will tell you, good fortune can come at the most unexpected times. What should be a hot time late on a Friday night can be a bust, while I have had some delicious feasts over the lunch hour with horney businessmen who unzipped the fly in their expensive suits for some quick bookstore cocksucking.
This morning while I wandered the maze of dimly lit booths I did spot a hot looking fellow making the run back to the main counter for tokens. He was a cunning specimen, 30-ish with a trim military look to him, showing a nice set of pecs under his T-shirt. His baseball cap and tight levis had the air of your average straight guy out on the town. The beard stubble under his dark mustache had a gritty sex appeal to it. He moved with a deliberate aggressive gait, a masculine and determined type.
My eyes offered an inviting look as he passed, but he briskly strutted back to the last door on the end, throwing the lock behind him. That is another peculiarity of bookstore cruising I'd missed--the sounds. There's the loud clank of tokens being deposited into the coin box, the ominous steps and creaking of the wooden planks as the anxious men traverse the hallways, and the cruel rattling of the door locks-- shutting out unwanted invitations for sex.
I moved back to the booth where the handsome stud had entered and pressed on the door, even though I had heard it being locked. It did not budge. Meandering around the maze I wondered if the college boy I'd scoped earlier would *ever* quit feeding the meter demon, wishing I could watch what he was doing behind the closed door, knowing the assistance I could offer his hard cock to give him pleasure. I listened carefully for his heavy breathing, perhaps some groaning or wet sounds of his hand in action.
But with another pass at the end of the hall I found, lo and behold, the door to the stall the hot man entered was now showing the tell-tale gap which indicated the latch was open. Hmmmm! My hand reached forward and slowly applied pressure to the door which creaked as it opened.
There he stood with his Cleveland Browns T-shirt reflecting the eerie light from the screen, his cap pulled forward hiding his eyes making his mustache even more prominent, and his hand stroking a very long and hard exposed cock protruding from his zipper. While I knew what it meant I paused a moment to savor the sight. Because of his rugged good looks and athletic build, he did have the appearance of possibly being a police officer so I didn't want to move too fast. On the other hand, the invitation was indeed a temptation which could not be refused.
"Hi!" I whispered through the doorway. "Hi" he grunted back, not looking up at all. "Want some company?" I queried, thinking that if he was going to turn and arrest me at least there was some discussion before I laid my hands on him and he consented with, "Sure". Good enough.
I swallowed my fear and entered the small booth, oblivious to the rattle as the door was locked behind me. Instinctively I pulled down my jeans and waved my own hard cock to see if he would touch me. The dripping head of my dick rubbed against his own hard-on causing a generous dollop of pre-cum to intermingle and leave those glistening threads to drip in the faint light.
He showed no interest in my own genitals so coupling that with the observation there was a straight fuck film on the screen, no doubt I just had a straight man who needed a blow job. Parking on the bench as he stood, my lips parted and slowly worked his firm cock down my throat. His dick was not only long, but nice and thick with pulsing veins that tickled the sides of my mouth as I tried to swallow that length all the way down. It was a challenge.
Sensing I was trying to grab at his balls, he undid his belt and dropped his levis to his knees allowing me to stroke his hairy scrotum. His crotch had a pleasing sweaty odor to it, as if he hadn't showered that morning just went to the bookstore for service. With my hand now grasping his nuts and the base of his shaft it was much easier to suck on his wet rod and massage between his legs for stimulation. My manstud remained absolutely silent--no moans or groans, no gasps of approval.
At this point I had to explore more of his body, even though I knew his only interest was in getting his rocks off. While continuing to lick and suck on his massive meat I slipped my hand up the front of his T-shirt to gleefully find a bearish hairy chest. My sucking became more intense as I worked my fingers through the dense mat of fur and rubbed his nipples. Damn! Even if this hunk arrested me I'd to be jacking off about this for days! My hand grabbed at his asscheeks which were smooth and firm.
The guttural slurps of his organ plunging deep into my throat were punctuated by the metallic clanking of tokens in the coin box. I moved my paw back to initiate a good rhythmic motion and briskly pumped his anxious member. There was no indication he was going to climax aside from a few quick jackrabbit strokes from his hips, then the distinctly milky, salty taste of fresh hot sperm started to shoot into my mouth.
I pulled back but kept my hand working as his load oozed from his cockhead and ran down my fingers. The booth which was already sweet with his crotch odor filled with the acrid scent of his cum. His cock went soft rather quickly so I instinctively tried to lap at his balls for some afterplay, but my head was forcefully pushed away. The straight man was now in his own process of denial that he'd just accepted a blow job from another man...(who enjoyed it immensely).
I stood and watched as he wiped up his cum onto his underwear, but even my attempts to fondle his dick one more time were repelled. Okay, I had done my job and was of no more use to him. With a quick turn as the door was unlatched, I did offer a foxy smile and simply said "Thanks!" as I exited back into the hallway.
Walking out of the bookstore into the bright daylight I hoped I'd adequately cleaned the jizz from my mustache but even if I hadn't there would have been pride in wearing my trophy the hot stud offered me. I continued on my way with content, knowing that hung fucker would long remember our encounter even if he couldn't admit it to himself right now.
And if you're reading this guy, I'll meet you next week. Same time, same place...last stall on the end.
