Jackson—May, 2022

The afterglow of CLAW, and then Keshawn’s birthday fuck, kept me going—which was good as I needed to concentrate on a brief work contract.  It was not until the next Saturday that I could even consider playing.  I decided to hit a bookstore—but not my usual haunt.  I went back to the one that is sprawling, with lots of diverse porn viewing stations.  In the past, Saturday mornings and afternoons had been fun there.  I was curious to see who would turn up.  I packed a lunch and set off…

There is next to no one here at 11:00am.  I walk the entire layout.  Three men are scattered around the different viewing stations—and one of them leaves for the booths downstairs as I pass him.  I settle in on a big overstuffed chair in the larger gay area.  In moments, the older of the two men left comes in. He is easily 10 years older than I am, also tall and thin, and he seems a little unsteady on his feet.  He asks to suck me. 

I nod and, using the support of the chair arms, he makes it to his knees.  I have had good luck with older men and their practiced oral skills.  Not today.  He is constantly nicking my flared head with his teeth.  I stand up and fuck his face.  This helps for a moment, but he can’t sustain it.  I ask to take a break.  I help him up and he leaves.

I touch my dick.  It reeks of his saliva.  I can’t imagine what he’s eaten to make it smell this way. The restroom is just steps away.  I wash my dick and balls.  And then my hands.  And do my dick once more.  I go back to my chair and wait.

More men arrive.  No one seems interested in sex—either giving or getting.

I make the circuit again.  I settle down in the Trans area.  A good looking, grey haired white man is stroking a seven incher.  I sit and stroke.  Soon enough, I am on my knees and he is in my mouth.  He drools a lot.

We reverse.  Neither of us are worried about the load—just making each other feel good.  He goes off, I think downstairs.

I wander.  The guy with the horrible smelling saliva follows me.

I find another contemporary in the gay area.  He is short and thick—and his dick matches his body build.  He sucks me for a bit, and then I do him.  I can feel at least two more inches of cock behind his gut.  Isn’t a bigger dick a reason to try to get back into shape?  Then I stop thinking about it as he gives me his load.

I turn Mr. Saliva down, who has been watching us.  He goes on his way.  I sit in the smaller gay area and stroke.

A handsome Black man around my age, grey haired with a sprightly gait comes in.  He makes a beeline for my cock.  His sucking skills are amazing.  I can’t help wondering if some bridgework has been removed from his mouth.  He gropes himself underneath his pants, but he never gets his cock out.

When his knees tire, I help him up and thank him.  I agree that he can find me later.

I eat lunch out in my car.  I see more people arrive—but none of them are in the lounge as I go back in.

I avoid Mr. Saliva with a wave of my hand.  I settle back into my chair in the small gay area.  In comes the handsome Black man.  He gives me great head again—this time knowing more about my pleasure points.  He spends a long time on my balls. 

Again his knees give out before I am close to a load.

I stroke.

I avoid Mr. Saliva one more time.

I want to go home.  While hardly a horrible time, today is not taking off.  I work harder at stroking—concentrating on getting close.  It works.  I go looking for that great mouth.  I find him in the Trans area. 

“You want my load?”

He doesn’t say a word; he just grins and gets on his knees.  I push into his mouth.  I watch the happiness in his eyes as he licks my cock.  I let him set the pace.  He effortlessly takes me to the root.  Then spends a long time tonguing my cock head.

Now it’s to the root every time.  Over and over.  My balls contract.  I am actually going to be able to shoot from oral sex.

Once more he swallows me—and I’m there.  I blast away into him…

*

This certainly shouldn’t be labeled on here as ‘bad’ sex or even ‘odd.’  But it certainly wasn’t how I hoped the day would go.  The last time I was there at that time on a Saturday, we’d had a great mix of all ages—and all types of play.  Today I felt like I was the youngest man there—and that’s really saying something. 

It was a good reminder that half the fun of the hunt is that a decent two star day makes the four star times that much sweeter.

The original is here:  From My Side of the Sling: Bookstore Head (and No Tails) (felchingpisser.blogspot.com)  June 9, 2022