Babes

While on vacation recently, I got an urge I haven’t felt in years, and decided to walk down to an adult bookstore I know of in the neighborhood, to see what action, if any, I might find in the back room. The last time I’d been down there, the place had been pretty grungy, but the whole area has been renovated in the past decade, so I hoped the businesses around there would have been improved as well.

When I got there, the main room of the store was bright and clean, and well organized, with a young man in jeans and a t-shirt behind the counter. There were about a half-dozen men, mostly in their late 20’s to late 30’s, looking through a wide selection of videotapes and magazines. Unlike most such stores I’d visited in my misspent youth, there was no real dividing line between gay and straight material, and the racks were set up so that you could easily be looking at straight stuff on one, then turn around and have gay or lesbian or bondage or whatever behind you.

After checking out the selection available for sale (which had apparently expanded and improved dramatically in the past years), I went to the counter and bought a couple of dollars worth of tokens (also a new idea for me), and went into the hall that led to the bathroom and video booth room. No rank smell greeted me, as it so often had in years gone by, and there was a display case with 16 boxes in it mounted on the wall, showing the videos that you could see. Apparently the management had decided to alternate between straight and gay videos, probably to cater to the clientele, which in that area was at least half gay, and often militant about it.

I checked out the offerings (which were mostly fairly subtle in their presentation, though by no means always), and walked through the red velour curtain into the video area. This was somewhat familiar to me, though still a drastic change from the old days. The booths were small, but each had a padded seat, and a 90-degree angle between its opening and the room itself, which meant that to look at its occupant a person would have to make a definite effort, attracting attention. There were also prominent displays of posters announcing local laws and AIDS centers. Of the dozen or so booths in the place, 3 or 4 had the lights over their doorways lit, announcing the fact that they were occupied.

I walked slowly through the place, checking out illegal bahis the atmosphere (mostly pine-sol), and scoping out what I could of the occupants without being obvious or obnoxious. A couple of booths bald middle-aged men sitting quietly, watching movies. A token machine, much like a regular change machine, sat by the door. Finally, the booths furthest from the door were different from the rest.

The booth in the wall that backed onto the shop was about six feet from the wall facing it, to leave room for an emergency door. This left the opening into the booth facing out into an open, dark area. The two booths on the other side of the room faced each other, which was necessary to make the last booth accessible without walking through a wall. I sat in the booth by the door, and fed in a couple of tokens, watching the room with one eye.

About two or so minutes later (just before the second token ran out), a young man walked into the room (I could see the light change as he opened the curtain), and walked slowly but certainly to the last booth on the other wall. As I’d suspected, I could see him somewhat from where I was sitting, and when he looked over at me, I got the impression that he’d chosen his place as carefully.

I fed in another token, and waited, flipping through the available selections almost absent-mindedly, while waiting to see what would happen next. The young man also fed in a couple of tokens, and I could tell by the sound coming from his booth that he was also channel-surfing. I guess there’s nowhere men don’t always look for something more interesting. A few seconds passed, and the man shifted a bit, occasionally peeking out through his doorway toward my side of the room. Only his shoulder and a bit of his hip were visible to me, so when the third token ran out on me, I decided to be a little bit more proactive, and check things out.

I got up from my seat and walked out into the aisle between rows of booths. By now almost half the booths had “active” lights on over them, and I could see some shifting of shadows that indicated their occupants were wanking away some frustration. I also edged close enough to the young man’s booth to see that he was also working away busily on himself, while simultaneously keeping half an eye on the room, and half on his screen. He looked up for a moment, and moved his hand away from what illegal bahis siteleri appeared in the dim light to be a sizeable cock, smiled a bit, then went back to work.

“Well, heck” I thought, and went across the aisle to place myself in the booth that faced his. I quickly checked for “glory holes” (there were none, but there was some evidence that there had been some attempts to drill some, which had been patched with metal plates and bolts), then dropped a couple of tokens into the coin slot. I then glanced over at the young man, and at what he had in his hand.

Well! He was a very fortunate fellow. Though the angle left me in some doubt as to exact dimensions, he had something prodigious. At least half was always out of his hand, and his fingers barely wrapped around its circumference. He looked over at me and grinned, so I reached down and pulled out my own eight-incher, which had grown to its full stature while I was across the aisle.

After a while, his video stopped, but rather than putting more tokens into the coin slot, he got up, pulled up his trousers (without fastening them, or even putting his tool away), and took the two steps that put him in the doorway of my booth.

“Like some help with that?” he asked.

I looked him over carefully, now that I could. He was about 26 or so, medium height and weight, short, neat hair, clear dark skin, and with at least ten inches protruding from his fly. “Sure!” I said, and edged over in my seat closer to the wall.

Rather than sitting next to me and perhaps giving me a hand-job (which I’d more than half expected), he half-sat, half-knelt, then bent over and took the head of my cock into his mouth. It was great! It’d been a long time since I’d been sexual with anyone but my right hand, and I’d almost forgotten how wonderful a warm, wet mouth can feel.

He continued to suck my cock, getting progressively deeper with each stroke until he was taking almost three quarters of me into his mouth, all the while maintaining a respectable suction and swirling his tongue around the head.

Then the machine ran out of money.

I stood to get into my pocket, and dug out my remaining five tokens, and as I did so, he turned his head slightly, and took my cock all the way into his throat. I almost dropped my tokens, but instead managed to slip them all into the coin slot, one canlı bahis siteleri at a time. As I was doing so, I noticed someone standing in the shadows, watching intently while at the same time stroking himself.

I slumped against the back wall of the booth, letting my new friend suck away for at least five minutes, because the next thing I knew, the machine again ran out of change. I knew I had some in another pocket, but the young man had a better idea. “Let me get it” he said, and stood up to dig into his own pocket. As he did so, I looked down, just to compare (don’t we all?). Our two cocks overlapped, at also the same height, and while mine was a touch thicker, his was at least two, and probably three inches longer.

“What the heck,” I said to myself again, and as he was putting a handful of change into the machine, I sat down on the bench and took his stiff cock into my mouth. It was great, but almost more than I could handle. It only took a few seconds for me to remember skills long since forgotten, and to get into a practiced rhythm on him, each minute getting more and more of that monstrous cock into my mouth. I finally reached my limit at around 8 or 9 inches — when I began to gag (never been able to do a deep throat), his belly was still a couple of inches from my eyes.

I kept at it, though, while simultaneously using my free hand to pleasure myself. I don’t know exactly how long it was, but soon I knew I was about to come. I backed off (didn’t want to bite through that beauty in a moment of ecstasy), stood up shakily, and quickly located the trash can in the booth. Aiming Mr. Happy in that general direction, I cut loose with what is easily the biggest load I have shot in several years. Most of it landed in the trash can, but the rest went into the waiting mouth of the young man, who had figured out just a bit late what I was up to. he greedily sucked out the remains of my load, then looked my in the eye.

“I’m almost ready — pass the trash can, please” he said, but I just shook my head and went back down on him. I think I got about a third of him into my mouth before he cut loose, and filled my mouth with that salty flavor that I’d thought forgotten. As he relaxed, I took all of his softening tool into my mouth, and sucked and licked him clean.

As we fastened our trousers and tucked our shirts in I looked for the mysterious voyeur, but he was nowhere in sight. The young man looked at me, and said “I could do that all day,” then turned and left the room.

By the time I got to the front of the store, he was nowhere to be seen, but I plan on going back in a few weeks.

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