Saturday, March 22, 2008

Bookstore BJ

There were trails of saliva on my suit pants and the left cuff of my dress shirt. Naturally, it was also in my goatee and down my chin. All you had to do was follow the stream back up to my mouth to see where it originated from.

I should start from the beginning I guess.

On the way home from a client visit, I stopped at the adult video arcade I have been mentioning for the last few months. The usual cast of suspects were there – or the usual type of suspects. Dirty looking pervs. Ones you’d have to kind of shake your head ‘no’ as they continue to leer and hope that they have a chance that they all know they do not actually have. Not that it ever deters them.

Don’t get me wrong – I am sure that with some populations, I am that guy to some of the others in the establishment. I think I can say without a doubt, I was the best dressed guy there. Suit. Tie. I looked good. …and there’s something to be said for having your dick hang out of your suit fly while you are in a booth.

I passed a guy in the hall that I immediately knew I would get off. There wasn’t a chance it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. I think a lot of us get that feeling.

He followed me into my booth. His cock was a solid 7"......and I do mean solid. Rock hard. He loved my mouth on him. But he wanted guys to watch. More specifically he wanted to watch me get guys off. There were just no other guys - so I didn't get him off. He walked around waiting for someone to watch and then he just walked out.

Too bad - he should have stuck around another 15 minutes. Some guy did show up. A worthy guy. 5'9", 160, short reddish hair with a thin fu manchu going on. He looked a lot like Morgan Spurlock wearing trackpants.

Passing me in the hall, we both made non-overt attempts to check each other out and eventually I planted myself in a booth to watch a movie knowing that one of us stationary is better than two of us mobile. Eventually he occupied the one across from me - never looking over and only watching straight porn (which is all ok with me). But I was getting no signal from him. None. After 10 minutes, I walked around. So did he.

He made sure (?) I saw him go into another booth. One without one across the way. So I looked in and there he was. Barely acknowledging me, I stepped in and rubbed his crotch. He moved back to let me all the way in. BINGO.

I took the seat and pulled down his trackies. He had a nice 7" with a slightly upward curve. It was not fully hard yet, but all it would do is stiffen, no longer grow any more. He also had trimmed red pubes.....the only sign in our entire encounter which would possibly indicate him being anything but straight. Maybe straight guys manscape like that, but I haven't really come across them.

I sucked him and he REALLY liked it. He moved this back to the side wall and pointed at the floor. Fine. I get it. He wanted me on my knees. I did it in a heartbeat for this guy.

Now if I do pat myself on the back, I give a really good blowjob. I know how to read guys, I intuitively know what they like. But I also pride myself on not using my hands or fist to get them off. It's a blowjob - not a handjob.

I also recognize that sometimes it is not me who can't get them off. They have a thing or the combo mouth/hand action. Sometimes I have to be told though. He had to tell me. It's about the only thing he said TO me.

With his shoulders leaning back to the wall and his head tilted back and upward and hand thrown to the side gripping the opening of the door, he was all about a man lost in his BJ world. As it should be, it was about him - not me.

He wouldn't look down at me, he was into it or fantasizing about someone else. But he requested/stated to 'use your hand'. So I did.

This was not a rushed job. He was not in a hurry to blow and go and fuck if I wasn't going to make it last. I used my wet mouth and hand on his prick. I would hear that sounds of 'ohhh yeah.....that's it'. Almost a disembodied voice....since I don't think he was really talking to me.

So this is where my spit was dripping onto my arm, dress shirt and off my chin onto my pants as I kneeled on the floor of a porno booth. Kind of one man's version of heaven, I suppose. I can only speak for me.

The only other thing the guy said to me during this time was one of those dumb things (again, at least to me): "do you want my cum?". He didn't say it in a taunting, teasing way that some guys do.....ones that make guys like me beg or ask for it. Nah - this guy genuinely meant it. For a split second I felt bad that other guys (or women) might have wanted his semen. I was not one of these people.

Though he asked the question, he wasn't ready. Neither was I. I edged him a few more times and he was going crazy - but never looking down. Head always tilted back. It was so hot to look up to that - and to only see the bottom of his chin and the ends of his moustache.

I don't know how he couldn't have notice that other guys would come to the door (they had to see his hand grasping the door opening) and peer in and watch for a bit and move one. I noticed but not too much. I don't mind being watched, but I was all about this guy this time - not 'the show'.

Then it was time. He couldn't or wouldn't hold off any longer. With grunts, groans and moans he popped his nut into my mouth. Naturally I took it all. I made sure it all disappeared. I'm not sure he noticed right away through his huffing and puffing and momentary afterglow of his orgasm.

I watched him compose himself from my point of view and that was hot too.

He got himself together and told me how 'amazing' that was. I don't need the compliments normally, but I so wanted to please this guy - and I think I did.

It would have been great to get his number or give him mine, but that ruins the immediacy and urgent need of the moment. Why break that thought?

He pulled up his trackies and walked out.

1 comment:

mountii said...