Everything about him screamed "Coach".
While not quite fire-hydrant built, he wasn't far from that description. Maybe mid 50s, 5'6", 170, balding under that hat (one would assume), the coaches shirt and shorts, along with athletic shoes. If he had the whistle dangling around his neck, there would have been no doubt.
As it was, he took the booth across from me at the bookstore. Since there are no doors, I knew he was there and he knew I was as well.
He followed me there, as like almost all other times I've been, we were the only ones under 75 years old and with out assisted oxygen. I'm never sure why I keep going here, except that I'm super horny and it appeals to a sleazy side of me - dirty floors, being watched and always the potential of someone hot stumbling into the arcade.
I peer out my door and he is looking at me. This could go two ways basically, he wants to give me his cock or wants to see and take mine. I'm not interested in the latter. Luckily, neither was he.
Being about as shy as myself, he just unzips his shorts and hauls out his cock. Maybe 6.5" tops. A good head on it and a thick, but not super thick shaft. I give a nod, he doesn't put it anything away and just walks over.
I'm sitting in a plastic chair and just put my head to his crotch. Calculated and sensual, my lips wrap around the head of his dick, around the corona. I take it a little deeper and then a little more. All the while my tongues is making tracks on the head, around it, just under it. He's getting multiple sensations all at once. This is what I want him to feel - overwhelmed with stimuli of a cocksucker's mouth.
Everything about his reaction says I'm succeeding.
He sighs. He shudders. His eyes close. His lips curl into a slight smile. He's taking it all in, as am I. Him the sensation, me his cock.
Coach mutters, even talks, but the sound of the bad porn movie is so loud, I hear him but I can't hear him. This is an old place - there is no volume control, you're at the mercy of the equipment and management.
I want him to be at the mercy of my mouth, but I know I'm more at the mercy of his throbbing shaft.
He is rock hard. ROCK hard.
More than once in the first ten minutes he pushes me off his dick. He's close. He doesn't want to be. Not yet.
In a place like this, a guy who doesn't want to be close usually means he's just waiting for someone better. Oddly enough, with him, that's not the vibe. He's wanting to extend the session. He wants to be in control of his orgasm. He doesn't want me to take that control, but he does want me to take the load.
Coach was nice enough to ask where I wanted it, I told him it wasn't up to me. He said in the mouth, but only if I wanted it there. I really wanted him to make that decision, or let him think he was making it. But Coach was being too nice about it all, so I had to state, I wanted every drop to go in my mouth so it would slide to my belly.
He got the picture then.
But don't think he was ready. Oh no. Between his pushing me off and my edging, we made this session last about 40 minutes. In a bookstore that is eternity.
The old farts came and went, poking their heads in. Coach never seemed to notice them - or care. I always sensed their presence and some were so fucking gross, I did shoo them away. I'm all for giving a free show, but sometimes you don't want certain folks to see, let alone try to join in - which a few tried.
Early on, I slipped off that chair and onto my knees, where I belonged. Kneeling on that floor that who knows the fuck when it was mopped last. Who knows how many fucking loads were shot and dried there. I didn't notice and fresher, wet deposits, not that it would have stopped me from my rightful place.
A few times his hands went to his dick and I firmly pushed them away - he grinned at that each and every time. Once his hand went to his belt, but with his cock and balls just out of his fly, it looked so fucking hot, I again took his hands away. He understood.
I gripped his legs for support, starting with the calves. My fucking god, they were the strongest calves I had ever encountered. I could feel every muscle. My hands crept up the back of his thighs and like below the knees, they were like concrete. So much muscle. So tense. So masculine. I was in awe.
I liked when he leaned back against the thin wall. I liked when his eyes closed or his head went back, that he was into the moment - whether he was thinking about me or someone else. It didn't really matter, as I was the recipient of his penis and hopefully his load.
I know Coach liked my mouth. He said so several times, but his hard cock really said it. I'd see him later and he wasn't erect, so I was fairly certain he was not taking and ED drugs.
While it probably wasn't out of nowhere, I wasn't really given an indication that he wanted to finish or that I had gotten him so close that there was no turning back.
Firm grip on my head was firm. My grip on his thighs was just as tight.
I felt this cock jump around in my mouth as it spurted again and again....and again and again. It was a huge load. Not full of flavor, but not void of it either.
He watched me gulp. He saw my throat contract knowing his seed was going to my belly.
Coach also wasn't one to just push away. He let me nurse his cock for at least another 5 minutes. I didn't want to let go. But eventually I did.
He left, but he left some of him behind - in my mouth, throat and stomach.