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This may read as an autobiography but it is not. That is not to say I haven’t seen the inside of video booth or a glory hole but beyond that, this is entirely a work of fiction. If you imagine you recognize yourself in the story, you don’t.

The setting is fictional but the conflict and emotion I hope I’ve captured, however poorly, is universal or damn near so.

All the characters are over twenty-one.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle.

Please provide me with helpful critiques and suggestions.

Sorry. Enjoy (I hope).


It hadn’t been my first trip to a place like that. Every city of any size had 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, 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 forgetten 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 syph 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 fanatasies. 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 montiors 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, güvenilir bahis 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 precum 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 glory hole 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 dickwad 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 türkçe bahis 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 mags, 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 precum 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 girl 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 güvenilir bahis siteleri 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 precum. 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.

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