A Hole in the Wall

It hadn’t been my first trip to a place like that. Every
city of any size has them. The trick was finding them.
Lawrence isn’t big for a city but it’s a university
town. This was before the Internet and its incredible
simplification of the process of finding a dick to suck.

Hell, back then the only person I knew who had a
‘personal’ computer was a professor with a RadioShack
TRS80. It used a cassette tape as a mini reel-to-reel
storage. My computer science classes were taught on the
school’s mainframe.

Every town of any size also had a local paper, with
personals and ads for porn theaters in the back. I don’t
recall what Lawrence’s fuck rag was called but it had
one. I’ve forgotten what the bookstore was called, other
than “Insert Dude’s Name Playpen”.

I was in town to interview for graduate school. I was a
nerd. Yes, that word had already been invented. I loved
math and I loved computers. I may have seen only one
personal computer but I was sure they were coming. I
don’t think anyone imagined you’d be able to stick one
in your pocket in another thirty years.

I was in town because I wanted to check out the graduate
program in electrical engineering and computer science.
On this particular night, I was in the back of a porn
shop, perched on a wobbly stool in a dark closet-sized
booth with a sticky floor because I want to suck a dick.
I had been in places like this before but I had never
ventured beyond touching or watching and once letting a
guy give me a blow job. Tonight, I had vowed, that would
change.

We didn’t have the Internet back then but we didn’t have
HIV either. It’s sad, almost quaint, to recall a time
when my biggest fear was herpes. I would have died of
embarrassment if I had to go to the local public health
department with the clap or syphilis but at least a shot
could cure those. Fucking herpes was forever, so was HIV
a few years later, except at that time forever was only
a year or two.

Don’t get me wrong. This is not a paean to the glory
days of bathhouses and casual fucking. Mind you, I’m
okay with casual fucking, as long as that’s not the sole
focus of your being. Trust me, you want to keep your
eyes out for someone you can put up with and who can put
up with you. Fucking is great; sharing is better. But as
long as you keep your eyes open and don’t let fucking
destroy sharing and as long as you don’t think some
little pill means you can fuck and suck like we did in
the late seventies, well then, go ahead and fuck and
suck to your heart’s content.

I’m afraid that’s a mixed message. Sorry. No more words
of wisdom or lack thereof.

On the screen, a video was barely discernible, distorted
by the shitty video player and the lack of vertical hold
on the monitor. My jeans were around my ankles. I was
careful to keep my feet on the lower rung on the stool.
It was early evening, but the concrete floor was already
shiny and sticky with cum.

As I was absent-mindedly stroking my cock, my attention
jumped back and forth between some hairy motherfucker in
a swing getting fucked by a line of equally hairy
motherfuckers and the hole in the wall to my left. The
hole was dark when I went in. I waited for the glow of
light that would tell me someone had opened the door.

I was getting tired of the dudes in the swing. I used a
knuckle to click the channel selector button. It amused
me that I was using the back of my knuckle. I was
planning to suck a baker’s dozen of strangers’ cocks
tonight or at least one. (My grasp often exceeds my
reach, even now.) In the scheme of things touching the
button with my finger was probably one of the lower risk
behaviors I had in mind. I tried to remember the channel
number of a video about bisexual fantasies. That was my
favorite type of porn but the selection was limited. Two
guys sucking and fucking was totally cool as well.

Bingo! On the shitty screen, two dudes were staring
through a peephole into the girls’ shower. The dudes and
the ‘girls’ looked to be in their thirties, though it
appeared they were supposed to be in high school. I
didn’t bother with the volume. The volume on those
monitors either wouldn’t work, be totally distorted, or
blare at maximum volume with volume buttons that didn’t
function.

On the screen, a very large breasted black chick caught
the peeping Toms. The action shifted to her office. Even
if I could have heard the dialogue I would have wanted
them to speed it up. Judging by their facial
expressions, the lady coach was blackmailing them into
sucking each other. All right, about fucking time.

The hole to my left glowed. I heard a soft click as the
door to the booth next to mine was latched. After some
fumbling, I heard the plastic clatter of the tokens. His
screen lit up. At the same time the immediate vicinity
was deafened by a woman screaming, “Uh-huh, fuck my
pussy.” I heard the guy mutter, “Fuck,” under his
breath, though he could have shouted and not been heard
beyond his booth.

Thank God his volume control has one of the rare ones
that worked. If it hadn’t we would have both needed to
move. You couldn’t hang out in a booth without dropping
tokens and no one was going to drop tokens in a booth
with the volume stuck on “turn that fucking shit down,
asshole” level.

On my screen, it appeared the naughty students were
being coerced into one of them fucking the other. I
watched that play out as the dude next door went through
the channel selections one by one. When he stopped, I
leaned back to peek through the hole to see what he
selected. The hairy fuckers in leather. At the same
time, I saw him lean back to see what I was watching.
The channel selector window in my booth glowed a hazy
“21”. I didn’t want to look too closely to see why the
Plexiglas was hazy in that spot. The guy’s arm stretched
out. He punched the button quickly, stopping on “21”. I
took a breath and told myself I wasn’t going to pussy
out this time.

I stood up. I wasn’t wearing underwear. My cock was too
hard to do much in the way of flopping. I pulled my
jeans up to mid-thigh in an attempt to keep them off the
floor. I tried not to think about what the cuffs were
trailing in. Thank God for Tide and hot water.

I faced the hole and began to slowly stroke my cock. I
ran my hand over the pre-cum that was already dripping
and rubbed it over the head. I didn’t really start to
jerk off. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here and I knew
after I shot my wad, I’d probably sober up and bolt.

As expected, a single finger appeared in the hole and
rubbed the bottom of it. I ignored it. I wasn’t here to
get sucked. I was here to do the sucking, finally. I’d
gotten a gloryhole BJ once and it was fucking awesome.

I was as ashamed of the fact it had turned my
girlfriend’s blowjobs into an activity that no longer
did much for me, as I was over cheating on her in the
first place. I tried to excuse my behavior by reminding
myself that I had convinced her to go off the pill, to
give her body a “rest”. It was the best excuse I could
think of. I hadn’t gone back to rubbers because I was
worried about her not being on the pill. I had gone back
to them because I didn’t want to give her an STD.

I pushed those thoughts away. It wasn’t hard to do when
I was in this part of my head. Terminal horniness is not
a state of mind in which subtle gradations of morality
gain much traction.

The finger disappeared, then re-appeared. I ignored it
again. When it disappeared this time the guy stood up.
The back of his hand, visible as he beckoned me, wasn’t
old and wrinkled. There was still hair between his
knuckles. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a troll. I’d seen
graffiti that suggested, “Suck a troll. One day you’ll
be one.”

True enough but that night I wasn’t in a charitable
mood. Besides, this was my last trip. I’d suck a dick,
get it out of my system and put this all behind me and
live happily ever after with a nice girl and have 1.37
average kids and learn to vote Republican. God Bless
America.

I hoped his cock wasn’t ugly as I watched him unzip and
unbutton his pants. A few weeks ago I had almost
summoned the courage to go ahead and do this, suck a
cock, but the cock that came through the hole had been
gross. It wasn’t dirty or smelly. It was just weird.

The shaft was really skinny, hardly bigger around than a
large man’s thumb. The head was this outsized bulbous
purplish red monster. The proportions were so off it was
jarring. Worse, his piss slit extended way underneath
the head. It looked more like a gash than a slit. I felt
like a dick-wad but I simply buttoned up and got the
hell out of Dodge.

In a situation like this, looks weren’t all that
important, unless it was a joint where the management
let you mill around, scope out someone of interest, and
see if they would follow you into an adjoining booth. I
could do all right in the that kind of joint. I wasn’t
Robert Redford but I wasn’t Hermann Munster either. My
cock was nice though. Everyone said so, and I was
inclined to believe them. It wasn’t huge but it fit
together nicely if that makes sense.

Whoever had cut me did a nice job. I didn’t have a
flappy turkey neck below my cock head. I’m mature enough
to understand you can’t always get what you want but I
don’t feel like holding out for a non-ugly cock was
unreasonable. It didn’t have to be a perfect cock, just
not an ugly cock.

What came through the five-inch wide hole in the plywood
wall, painted black and striped with dried, and some not
so dried, cum was a nice cock. He wouldn’t be starring
in any porn videos but it was a nice cock, maybe five,
five and-a-half inches long but with nice girth. As he
squeezed the shaft, the head blushed a deep red and a
clear pearl of fluid collected at the slit.

I wanted that cock. Whatever nerves had followed me into
that booth fell away or were buried so deep in my brain
as to be meaningless.

I put my finger through the hole and pulled it back. The
cock followed.

I leaned forward and nearly over-balanced the stool. I
opened my mouth and then, after years of fantasizing,
years of deeply hidden gay/bi porn magazines, and
unending jerk off sessions, I had a cock in my mouth.

I was surprised at how squishy the head was. I let my
tongue wipe away the dewdrop at the tip of his cock. I
wondered if that is what his cum would taste like. As
much as I had dreamed of sucking a dude’s cock, only
once had I dipped the tip of a finger into my cum and
touched it to my tongue.

Almost every time I jerked off I told myself that this
time I was going to eat my load, scoop the cum off my
belly and eat it. Problem was by the time I’d stop
shooting, it didn’t seem like that great an idea
anymore. This was different. I wasn’t going to let
myself cum, and thereby regain control of myself, until
after I had sucked at least one cock to completion.

I rolled my tongue around the head as I tentatively
wrapped the fingers of my right hand around his meat.
His pre-cum tasted pretty much like I remembered the
single sampling of my own cum. It wasn’t salty, that
much was certain. I squeezed the shaft, trying to avoid
making it seem like I was squeezing toothpaste out of a
tube. I moved my hand forward and was rewarded with a
substantially large deposit. It was slippery. I moved it
around inside my mouth with my tongue. I liked it. I
wanted more.

Once again, I betrayed my girlfriend by thinking about
all the things she did when she went down on me that I
didn’t like, then strove avoid repeating her mistakes. I
didn’t like the fact that she never took more than the
head of my cock in her mouth. I let my hand glide over
the silky hardness of his shaft to the base of his cock.
I followed with my mouth. I hadn’t demanded a perfect
cock but in many ways this was the perfect cock for a
beginner. If a seven-inch hunk of meat had come through
the hole I would have probably been too daunted to try.

More and more of his cock slid into my mouth. Through
the hole I heard him whisper, “Yeah, that’s nice,” and
thought to myself, “you fucking got this, dude. Suck his
cock.”

The head of his dick touched the back of my throat at
the same time my nose touched his pubes. I didn’t gag. I
wondered if my little private practice with a banana had
helped with that. I had gotten larger bananas than his
cock in my throat. I relaxed and pushed my nose into his
belly. My forehead touched the wall.

I don’t recall being worried any longer about the
streaks of dried cum on the wall. The head of his cock
pushed past the narrow space at the back of my throat. I
had done it. I had deep-throated his cock. It was a
relatively small cock but still, I had done it. The
“fuck!” from next door added to my sense of
accomplishment.

I held still, willing my throat to relax, letting it
grow accustom to the sensation of fullness, hoping that
would help me avoid gagging. When I pulled back, I
followed with my hand, making his cock wet with my
mouth. That’s another thing my girlfriend never did when
she blew me, use her hand. She held on to the base of my
cock but that was it. I stroked his shaft, tightened my
lips as the crown slid under them, and pulled my hand
over the head of his cock.

I was ecstatic. I could suck a cock! I started to deep-
throat and stroke his cock, pulling my mouth and hand
all the way off his cock with each stroke. I remembered
how, when I jerked off, sometimes I would do nothing
more than slide the ring of my thumb and finger over the
crown. I opened my mouth wide but pursed my lips, hoping
that nothing but my lips would touch his cock. As
rapidly as I could, I popped the crown of his cock in
and out of my lips.

He pushed against the partition and the flimsy wall
shook. He added the occasional, “Ah, Jesus!” to his
mantra. I went back to deep-throating him, loving the
feel of his cock gliding over the top of my tongue and
banging into the back of my throat.

“I’m going to cum!” he whispered hoarsely and tried to
pull away. That was polite of him but there was no way I
was letting him, or his cum, get away. I pulled my head
back, stopping with my lips still around the crown. I
tightened my grip, signaling my wish that he stay where
he was. He conceded. I started to jerk him with short,
fast strokes while holding the head of his cock in my
mouth.

I felt his load pass under my fingers and then my mouth
was full. I’d done it. I had, finally, sucked a dude’s
cock. My mouth was full of his sperm, his fucking sperm!
I held my mouth over his cock, not swallowing until his
eruption stopped. I didn’t want to swallow, not yet. I
wasn’t going to spit it out but I wanted to savor my
accomplishment. When he pulled his cock back, some of
his cum dribbled down my chin. I didn’t care.

A face, or most of a face appeared in the circle. Based
on the few gray hairs in his beard I guessed he was in
his early forties, older than I expected, but I couldn’t
have fucking cared less. I rolled his cum around my
mouth like some wine snob. His bouquet bloomed in my
nose.

I’d had my nose in his pubes but this was different.
This didn’t smell like my crotch after a run. This
smelled like my room did after I beat off. The taste was
more intense than the pre-cum. I still couldn’t describe
it. It made my mouth feel kind of numb and tingly.

“Let me see,” he whispered. I was confused at first. Did
he mean he wanted to see my cock? Then I understood.

I opened my mouth. More of his seed ran down my chin.
I’d seen similar scenes in porn videos. I wished I could
see it now, for real, my mouth opened to reveal a
mouthful of cum, jizz, spunk, semen. I wanted to see it
leak out of the corners of my mouth.

“Swallow it.”

I closed my throat, swallowed with an exaggerated motion
and then opened my mouth again, absurdly thinking, “Look
ma, all gone,” as if I had successfully choked down the
last lima bean on my plate.

“Man, you know how to suck a dick. See ya, and thanks.”

He rose, tucked his cock back in his pants, zipped, and
then opened the door. Beyond the door, I could see a guy
about my age wearing jeans and an AC/DC tee shirt, no
shit, I’m not making that up. I took it as some sort of
cosmic sign. He was pretending, for the sake of the
management, to be purveying the video selections but his
eyes were on the booth my first cock had just exited. He
was jiggling a handful of tokens. He was nervous.

One cock down and I felt like I was an old hand. I
wanted to call out to him to relax, come on in, but he
waited a bit too long. The doorway darkened and another
guy stepped in and closed the door.

The same video was playing. A couple was fucking and
another dude was joining them. The new guy was no
shrinking violet. He pulled down his zipper and began to
stroke his cock. He was bigger, by a lot. His cock was
fat, roped with veins and already longer than my first
and he still wasn’t completely hard. He must have seen
me looking through the hole. He didn’t wait for me to
stick my finger through. He stepped forward and shoved
his cock through.

It was hard to sit on the stool and bend. I was beyond
caring about my jeans. I knelt on the floor and took his
cock in my mouth. I stroked it, wetting my fingers when
my hand touched my lips. I started to suck him as I had
the first guy. I gagged a couple of times, getting him
into my throat but I did it. I mentally patted myself on
the back. I was good at this. I had talent.

I got him hard and removed him from my mouth. I wanted
to see his cock. He twitched it, in my hand, tightening
the muscles behind his balls, telling me to get on with
it. I would discover later I was somewhat anomalous, as
far as the typical cocksucker was concerned. I’m not
passive or submissive. When I suck your dick, I’m in
charge.

I ignored the twitch and ran my fingers over his cock.
It was a nice piece of meat. I traced the biggest vein
on the top of his cock with my fingertip. His cock
twitched, involuntarily this time. I ran my fingertip
around the crown and then pressed it lightly against his
piss slit. It was wet. I licked my finger.

I pushed his cock up, not hard and not far enough to
press it against the wall but far enough for me to drag
my tongue up the underside of his shaft. I flicked my
tongue in the V-shaped groove on the underside of his
crown. I let his cock hang lower, parted my lips and ran
them over the side of his cock, back up, skipping the
head deliberately and ran my lips down the other side.

I leaned back a bit and stroked him, rubbing my palm
over his head, slicking it with the excitement I was
pumping from his cock. Once more I felt the partition
trembled as he pressed his body against the wall.
Submissive? Not hardly, I suck cock because I love cum
and I love the ability to control people. I had this
guy, pressing his body against a nasty cum covered wall
because he was desperate for my mouth. True, I was
kneeling on a cum covered concrete floor but that’s
beside the point.

I engulfed his cock with my mouth and really went to
work. I deep-throated him. He wasn’t huge but he was
larger my first. I was taking him down my throat with
only an occasional gag.

Over the years I learned that, yes, I was a very good
sucker of cocks. That was part of the reason I got guys
off so quickly. The more important reason was most of
them were there for a quick nut before heading home to
the wife, or the girlfriend, or the boyfriend, or the
basement bedroom in their mom’s house. Guys like me,
guys who were there to suck cock, were less numerous.

***

The second cock I sucked was big enough he could pull
away slightly and not fall back through the hole. He
began to thrust into my mouth. That was cool. That was
pretty fucking hot, actually. I moved with him, stroking
with my hand, my lips, and my tongue.

He was not as much of a gentleman as the first guy. He
didn’t call out a warning and didn’t try to pull out of
my mouth. I would have refused anyway but the offer is
always appreciated. He simply filled my mouth. I held it
for a moment but he zipped and left immediately. I
swallowed.

As I rose to sit back on the stool I noticed movement
out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw an eye
peeking through the crack where the door of the booth
didn’t close completely. That explained the dude’s
quickness when it came to offering me his cock. He’d
been watching. He knew I was sucking without wasting
time on the preliminaries.

The eye left the crack, the booth next door darkened and
he pulled the door closed. The floor was hard on my
knees. I re-positioned the stool and waited.

Number three was more circumspect. He didn’t change the
video selection. I leaned back and watched the next
highly improbable scenario unfold silently on his
monitor. I bent nearly double and got a look at his
face. I guessed he was my age, maybe a little older. He
hadn’t shaved for a few days. He had wavy shoulder
length hair.

The color was impossible to make out in the flickering
light of the video but it was safe to say he probably
ought to wash it soon. He wore a grease stained work
shirt. An oval patch sewn above the right breast pocket
announced he was “Ted”. The shirtsleeves were rolled up
but the one of the left was starting to come loose. The
tail was untucked.

I could tell by his glances he was eyeing me as well. He
watched the video for a few minutes before he stood up
and unzipped his pants. His hands disappeared under his
shirttail. I heard the clank of his belt buckle and a
moment later, his pants fell to his knees. He wasn’t
wearing any underwear.

His cock jutted from beneath the bottom of his shirt. He
shuffled to the partition, ankles chain-ganged by his
pants. His cock wasn’t hard yet. I liked that. He put
his cock through and then rose up and wiggled his balls
through the hole as well. That was new.

I glanced at the door. I had another watcher. From the
little I could see, I was pretty sure it was the nervous
guy I had seen earlier. With two cocks under my belt, or
down my throat to be more precise, I already was
thinking of him as “the kid”.

The knees of my jeans were already grimed with whatever
was on the floor. I raised my ass off the stool and
pushed my jeans to my ankles. I thought about taking
them off, draping them over the stool and sitting on
them but a vision of the cops pounding on the door
killed that idea. I turned to face the door.

I started stroking number three with my right hand. My
cock had been rock hard since I’d slipped that first
cock into my mouth. I squeezed out a huge drop of pre-
cum onto my fingers, looked the peeper in the eye, and
licked my hand clean.

Down to business, pun intended.

Hygiene was less of a concern than it had been a half-
an-hour ago but I didn’t want to kneel on the concrete
floor on my bare knees. I sat down, squatting, the heels
of my tennis shoes digging into my bare ass. I
accomplished the maneuver without letting go of number
three’s cock. I congratulated myself on my
professionalism.

As I leaned closer, I noticed his musk. It was much
stronger than either one’s or two’s. He didn’t stink,
although to be honest I had ceded total control to my
lust. I can’t say with total honesty that I wouldn’t
have sucked him off even if he reeked.

He didn’t reek but the smell was not subtle. He’d worked
all day, based on his clothes as a mechanic, and he’d
been sweating. It wasn’t quite the fresh sweat smell of
a dude who has just shed his running shorts and is
waving his cock in your face but it didn’t smell like
your crotch did after a weekend of hiking and camping
without a shower either.

I moved my other hand to play with his balls. I hadn’t
been able to do that with one and two. It wasn’t until I
felt the stubble under my fingertips that I realized he
was shaved. The hair on his nuts and around his cock was
shorter than the hair on his face. Now you might think I
would have noticed that earlier but widespread shaving,
for men or women, was still in the future. It never
occurred to me that a guy might shave his balls or
anything besides his beard.

I let his balls slide back and forth in my hand. The
scratchy feel of the stubble felt amazing. I knew what I
was going to do when I got home.

The eye at the door change periodically. You had to keep
moving, keep ducking into a booth and dropping tokens or
the management would be on your ass. Someone who was,
based on my brief and limited glance, older and heavier,
had replaced the kid’s eye. I hoped the kid would be
back soon. I had an idea percolating in the back of my
mind.

I used my palm to spread three’s pre-cum over the head
of his dick as I let his cock rest on my cheek and
tentatively touched his ball sack with my tongue. I
didn’t do much with my balls in those days. I’ve since
learned to pay attention to all my parts. Three didn’t
appear to mind. His cock was rapidly growing hard in my
hand. I was torn. I would have loved to feel him get
hard in my mouth but his balls fascinated me. He tasted
salty. I slipped my tongue under his sack and let it
rest there as I darted my tongue around.

“Suck my nuts, man.”

I didn’t think I could get both of them into my mouth.
My tongue was under the left one, so that’s the one I
pulled into my mouth. His body stiffened and I was
afraid I’d hurt him until I heard his, “Ah man. That’s
right. Suck my fucking balls.”

I rolled his left nut in my mouth, sucking and pulling
until the tension in his body told me that was enough.
My head was to one side. I watched the parade of eyes at
the door jam, hoping to spot the kid. No luck. Mr. Stout
was bogarting the show.

“Hey buddy, if you aren’t back there to watch a movie
you need to get out. Understand?”

The voice came from the front of the store not back by
the booths so I didn’t hop up on the stool. The eye at
the door disappeared. I waited a moment but no one took
his place. I tilted my head the other way and went to
work on the right nut. I was stroking his cock while I
sucked his balls. Every stroke of my hand caused a trail
of pre-cum to grow, stretch and fall onto which ever
cheek was beneath it.

I was digging this new discovery. I moved back to the
left nut, mentally crossing my fingers, and bingo, he
was there. The more I had thought about it, the better
my idea seemed. I didn’t move my mouth to three’s cock.
I kept sucking at his ball and jerking him off. I knew
the kid was nervous. The other dude had just been
bitched at for loitering. I needed to be fast. Rather, I
needed three to be fast. I started to work the head,
sliding my slick grasp over the crown in a rocking,
twisting motion. Three cooperated.

A felt the now familiar shaking of the partition and the
equally familiar pant of “I’m cumming” or “Oh fuck” or
“Fuck yeah” etc.

I let his nut fall from my mouth, tilted my head back,
and opened my mouth. My head was turned slightly so that
I could watch the kid watching me. I don’t think he even
blinked. The first jet of cum laced diagonally across my
face, missing my mouth completely. It landed in my hair
and left side of my forehead, across the bridge of my
nose and down my right cheek. I re-directed his cock.
Most of the second jet went onto my cheek, along my nose
and even into my nose. As his ejaculation slowed and my
aim improved the rest landed on my tongue. I kept
jerking and kept my mouth open until he pulled away.

Three’s face appeared in the hole. Trying to keep one
eye on him and one eye on the kid I licked my lips and
swallowed. I wiped my cheek and nose off and sucked my
finger clean, before repeating the process to remove the
spunk on my forehead. I sucked my fingers clean while
they watched.

The video behind me clicked off. I nodded toward the
booth next door, willing the kid to enter, as I stood,
fumbled in my pocket for my tokens and fed the machine.

“Man, you know how to suck cock,” three whispered. “I’d
dig returning the favor but my old lady is waiting for
me at home. Stay cool, man.”

As I rested my bare ass on the cold stool, he zipped up
and left.

The light from the hall filled the booth when he opened
the door. He held it open. The kid walked in. Behind him
I saw two other guys glancing at the booth. Fuck, I was
a hit.

The kid, let’s be clear here, you had to be twenty-one
to enter and they carded. I thought of him as a kid
because I was now, in my own mind at least, a seasoned
cocksucker and he was a nervous, token-jingling newbie.
A newbie I was dying to suck off. I was obsessed at the
thought of seeing this dude naked.

He watched the video. He squeezed at his crotch.
Three’s, or was it two’s? tokens ran out and the kid fed
the machine his own. I counted twelve rattles, three
bucks. I hoped that meant he wasn’t leaving soon.

He continued to watch the movie. I leaned forward and
peeked through the hole. My cheek rested against the
wall. I don’t remember giving a shit about that.

“Let me see your cock.”

He didn’t respond. I didn’t want to spook him. I could
easily remember being in his shoes. I tried to remember
what had happened next, when I had been playing his
role. I stood up and began to stroke my cock. I didn’t
put it through the hole but stood right in front of it.
I couldn’t see if he was watching. I didn’t even try. I
just stroked my cock. I squeezed out some pre-cum and
when I licked my fingers clean, I could see him peering
through the hole in the wall.

I sat back down. I didn’t put my face to the hole. I
just watched. He was watching me. He was squeezing his
cock. I didn’t crowd the hole. I stayed where I was.

“Man, it’s cool. I’ll just watch if that’s all you’re
into.”

He opened his mouth, closed it and started to get up.

“No man, don’t split. Relax. I’ll sit back so you’ll
hardly know I’m here. Watch your movie.”

I didn’t think he’d listen. The first few times I had
been in his spot I hadn’t. He settled back onto the
stool.

“You won’t like it,” he whispered. He had an accent. It
wasn’t British. I thought it was New Zealand but maybe
it was Australian. “My prick looks weird.”

“Huh?”

“I’m from South Africa.” I shrugged, so much for my
being a man of the world. “We don’t circumcise in South
Africa, unless you are a Jew or a Muslim.”

Interesting, I remember thinking. If the sub-genre of
uncut gay porn had already been invented, I had not been
aware of it. I’d only seen one uncut cock in my life and
that had been in the shower after gym. Even that was
only a glimpse, the guy kept his back to us. Fuck, if
the kid had been dealing with that sort of shit no
wonder he was freaking.

“Man, I don’t care. That sounds fucking hot. Let me see.
I’ll only watch if you want.”

His face bore a look of uncertainty but his eyes glowed
with hope and horniness.

He stood up and unbuttoned his jeans. He was wearing
Fruit of the Loom briefs, which only reinforced my
mental tagging of him as “the kid”. He pushed the top of
his underwear down, fished around with the fingers of
his right hand and pulled out his cock.

“Fuck, man. There’s nothing weird about your dick. It’s
fucking gorgeous.”

I wasn’t playing him. It was. If God had asked me to
pick a cock for myself that is the one I would have
chosen. The kid was thin, making it hard to estimate
size but he was easily as long as two, who I had thought
was seven inches. At the base, his cock was bigger
around than the circle of my thumb and finger. The shaft
tapered in a gentle arching curve to a beautiful full
head that, at that moment, was covered by a thin pink
hood of skin. A pearl hung from the slit.

Later in the 80’s I spent a lot of time looking for a
clear dew drop earring that looked like that first drop
of nectar from a man’s cock. I never found it and
nowadays I think I’d look silly with an earring. My kids
would give me so much shit.

“Stroke it.”

He did. When the foreskin pulled back I got my first
full view of his engorged deep dusky red cock head. The
crown was flared. The V below his slit was deep and
channeled the flow of his pre-cum. It hung there,
growing until its weight pulled it away.

“Oh, man. Jesus. Let me suck that beautiful cock of
yours. Please.”

Fine, for the kid I was willing to go a little
submissive.

I fixed my eyes on him, not afraid to let him see my
desperation. I wanted his trust as much as I wanted his
cock.

When he scooted toward the wall I damn near hooted with
pleasure.

He arched his back and his cock was in my face. It’s
still the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen. That may be
nostalgia talking but so what?

I played with it, explored it. I pulled the hood over
the head, past the head then retracted it again. I was
amazed at how it moved over his cock. I was amazed and a
little bit crushed. I wanted my own foreskin back. For
the first time I realized I had been robbed of a part of
my body. I’d never even considered that before.

I pulled the foreskin back and took his cock into my
mouth. I touched the tip of my tongue to his slit and
then used my hand to pull his foreskin over the head of
his dick and my tongue. He moaned and my mind soared.

I ran my tongue around the head of his cock and was
treated to more moans. The kid never spoke another
coherent word in my presence.

I don’t know if he was a virgin. I don’t know if he’d
ever been with a chick or another guy. From the deep
insecurity he’d spoken of about his cock, my guess is
that even if he wasn’t a virgin, it had at least been a
long time since he’d done anything more than jerk off.

He began to thrust into my mouth. I let him. It was
fine, more than fine, it was fucking hot.

I made a tunnel of my fist. I tunnel that end inside my
mouth. When he pushed forward, the head of his cock
rested on the back of my tongue. I didn’t try to deep
throat him. I let him fuck my mouth and was happy for
the both of us.

I recall his cock as being the most perfect I’ve seen. I
also recall him cumming more than any other man I’ve
ever blown. He, literally, filled my mouth. I swallowed
most of it. It was sharper in taste. I wondered later if
sperm, like wine, ages. If the flavors change the longer
it’s stored.

Some of his load leaked past my lips. I felt a glob make
it inside the neck of my tee shirt. I found it dried on
my chest the next morning.

He kept pumping as long as his balls did. I think he
came longer than I had actually sucked him. It was
fucking out of this world.

I’d like to say he stood up, stepped back and returned
the favor. I’d like to say he came back to my hotel and
we spent the night and the next day, minus my
interviews, together. I’d like to say I confessed my
conflicted desires to my girlfriend and we shared it or
at least moved past it. None of that happened.

He got up and left without saying a word. I wasn’t
pissed. It’s what I did the first time some guy gave me
a glory hole BJ.

The fire was still burning inside me, however. I sucked
two more guys before my aching jaw made my wishful goal
of an even dozen clearly impossible. I didn’t get sucked
off that night. I got my shit, more or less, together
and left the booth. I had cum in my hair. The front of
my shirt was splattered. The knees of my jeans were wet
and grimy. I didn’t fucking care. I was totally out of
control. On my way out, I bought a dildo and some lube.

After the clerk gave me my change and a smirk I told him
to fuck off and die and expressed the opinion that he
couldn’t get his fat ass sucked, not even in here and
then instead of smirking he should thank us for keeping
his shitty shop running. He started from behind the
counter but I, a guy who had never been in a fight,
stood there, daring him with my eyes. That’s how far I
had slipped off my chain.

He settled for telling me to get the fuck out. I did,
but stuck my head back in the door to tell him his wife
was blowing dudes in the alley and he should make sure
he got his cut.

I went back to my motel. It was cheap. I could have
walked in with blood running from between clenched
fingers and no one would have looked up. I stripped and
threw my clothes on the floor, except my tee shirt, that
I tossed on the bed. I was expecting to need a lot of
clean up. My cock was still hard. I shit and used one of
the wash clothes to wash my ass. My cock was purple and
dripping. I refused to touch it.

I took one of the bath towels into the bedroom and
spread it on the bed. I laid down on it and lubed my
asshole. I put a finger in, then two, then three. I’d
done that much before. I lubed the dildo. I should have
gotten a smaller one, not that it was the largest, not
even close. It was a six-inch pale latex dick and a
shoved it up my ass. I raised up on an elbow, letting
the weight of my body push it deeper into my ass.

My hand was slick with lube. I ran it over my cock head
and began to jerk off. I wanted to cum but I hadn’t
wanted the night to end just then. I knew it would once
I busted my nut. I spotted my tee shirt and the drying
blotches on the front of it. I picked it up and put the
largest splotch in my mouth. I sucked. I hadn’t
hesitated. Why would I? I had eaten their cum once
tonight already. At first all I tasted was sweat and
cotton but then I tasted cum. I sucked that spot until
the flavor was gone then moved to another. I never made
it to the third.

I felt my orgasm building. I wished I could cum in my
own mouth then realized I could. I pulled the pillow
from under my head and shoved it under my lower back,
beneath the towel. I used my right hand to hold the
dildo in my ass. I pushed off the bed with my left and
threw my legs over my head. I let the bottom of my feet
rest against the wall above the bed. I let the weight of
my legs pull my cock toward my mouth.

I started to jam the latex cock in and out of my ass.

I jerked my cock, hard, with my left hand.

I opened my mouth.

Most of the cum ended up on my face, in my hair or on my
chest but plenty landed in my mouth as well. I might
have cum as much as the kid, I don’t know. As I lowered
my legs, the dildo popped out and landed on the towel.
It didn’t look too messy. I rolled it up and swiped the
towel between my legs before dropping it on the floor.

Usually, post-orgasm I develop what I called “the
guilts”, for whatever reason, I didn’t that night. That
night, even one terrific orgasm wasn’t enough. I didn’t
use the tee shirt to wipe off with. I used the finger
and mouth method I had discovered in the booth. To this
day it is still my preferred method. My post-load
reluctance to eat my cum became another relic of my
youth.

I rolled onto my side and fell asleep. I woke at some
point, jerked off again and fell back asleep. When I
woke the next morning, dried cum was everywhere, chest
hair, head hair, even a scaly patch inside my right ear.
The night before rolled over me. I didn’t freak out. I
smiled.

When I got home I had a friend in the med school shot me
up with whatever it was they treat the clap and syphilis
with back then. He made me take tetracycline for
Chlamydia. He didn’t ask questions.

On occasion I thought about the kid while I jerked off.
I wished him well, wished him lots of pussy or cock or
ass or both but mostly I wished him happiness and peace.
I still do. I don’t pray, technically I’m not sure an
atheist can pray, but I do find myself hoping,
frequently, that he was as lucky as I was. That he was
in touch with the world and when the first stories of
“gay cancer” made the news he cooled it.

I did. AIDS, while not putting the fear of God in me,
scared the hell out of me. I went to Lawrence. It was a
good choice for what I wanted to do but I’d be lying if
I said I didn’t look twice at AC/DC tee shirt wearers
and kept an ear opened for South African accents. I was
always disappointed. My girlfriend didn’t join me in
Lawrence. It wasn’t that she discovered I had a fondness
for cock. It was nothing more than two people realizing
their time together was at an end.

For the next couple of years I’d hit the video booths
when the need became pressing. Here again luck was with
me. If I’d gone to either of the coasts for grad school,
got involved in the scene in NY, LA, or San Fran I doubt
I’d be here to write this. Doubt I would have found a
woman who made it easy to deal with my desires within
the context of monogamy.

I dream about the kid still, not just sappy running
through the flowers dreams, though I have those as well.
No, often they are down and dirty dreams. I’m back in
that booth facing cock after cock and the kid is behind
me, fucking me in the ass, as I try, once more, for my
baker’s dozen.

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