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Near Home—January, 2024 The morning after I played with GaryM, I knew I would be headed to my favorite haunt. I had ended that session quite content, but I was hankering for more. What I found proved to be an explosive session… I arrive just before 2pm. There is one older white man in the straight theatre. He is in the cocksucker’s seat, but I am pretty sure he’s not there to give head. He seems enthralled by what I think is very average porn. I sit off to the side. My dick is hard, even with the rather slow ‘point of view’ porn. The door opens. A young, good looking Black man enters. A man who I’ve never seen before. He walks down to me the moment he sees my dick. His hand reaches out and hefts it. “Damn…” he mutters. He goes to the back wall and unzips his pants, taking out a cock that is only a few millimeters smaller. Not wasting time, I get up and go to him. I go to my knees. He grins and pushes his pants down to his knees, turns and presents his lightly haired ass to me. Well, fuck! My face is instantly buried in his ass crack. I find his hole and begin tongue fucking it. He moans and jerks his cock. “Fuck me, Daddy…with that big white dick…” I stand. I lube myself up. His hole is open and ready, even with just a few minutes of me eating him out. “You want it raw?” I ask, though I think I know the answer. “Fuck, yes!” I slide into him. He’s hot and wet. With some great muscle control. He squeezes me often as he jerks. “Fuck me ‘til I shoot,” he mumbles. I pick up my fuck tempo. His hand matches my rhythm. If I slow down, so does the fist stroking that big dick. I build it back up. My hips are now really slapping into that full ass. The guy near us is actually jerking to the raw fuck happening next to him, not the screen. “Oh, yeah!” the young man moans. And in just a few more strokes, he explodes all over the floor. I stay in him for a brief moment, wondering if he’ll let me load him, but he’s done after his orgasm and pulls off me. He doesn’t bother to mop up, he just stuffs his dripping cock and wet ass into his designer underwear. “That was hot,” he whispers in my ear. “Thanks, Daddy.” He takes off. All in the first 17 minutes of my time there… * I go to the gay theatre. A regular, a white cub, is stroking. He has given me a load before and comes right over the moment I sit down. I get a new one, thick and creamy, with very little work. In the back corner are two men, I can only hear, having sex. They move into the room proper now. A white guy in a backwards ball cap, decently built and likely in his early 40’s, has obviously been sucking a younger Black man, who I don’t recognize. He is slightly younger than the man doing him, but older than the man I’ve just fucked. He sits on a chair across from me. They watch me watch them as Ball Cap continues to suck, now between the other man’s spread legs. “Go suck his dick.” Ball Cap looks up at him, then at me—and crawls across the floor. He settles between my spread legs. He sucks quite well. I watch him take me deep into his mouth. Suddenly, I have a black cock in my face. I take him into my mouth and begin to suck. He groans. Now it becomes a fun free-for-all. Every body takes turns on each other. Ball Cap hauls out his dick, as well. There are moments of one man being done while he is doing the third. Moments of two mouths on one cock. All of us get fairly equal attention from the other two. We are all dick hungry pigs. We are back in the first position, me sitting with Ball Cap on my dick and the other man in my mouth when he suddenly starts breathing hard. I get a mouthful of tasty, but watery cum. I vaguely feel like it should be Ball Cap’s, but he doesn’t seem to care. We stop while the guy cleans up before taking off. Ball Cap goes out and into the arcade. I go back into the straight side. I sit in the vacated cocksucker’s seat. There is man off to the side. I suddenly recognize that it is Hipster Goatee from the day after the blizzard. He recognizes me, too. He comes back and sucks my cock for a bit, then stands, presenting his tiny penis. I go to my knees and suck him, but this time I think I know what he needs. I worm a wet finger up under his balls as I suck. He gasps as it touches his asshole. He begins seeping precum as it enters him. In moments he is giving me his load. I am alone for a bit. The door opens. It is a hot Latino I have not seen here since before the pandemic. He has a shaved head, black glasses and a cock as big as mine, but in a lovely shade of light brown. He remembers me. He whips out his cock and I suck and he plays with my dick. I have to really mind my teeth with his guy. He is constantly dripping precum. I am surprised when he pulls out of my mouth and takes a turn on me. I don’t remember him sucking before. I do know that we’ve shared ass in the past. And, seemingly, he remembers, too. “We should go next door and see if someone wants to get fucked.” We do up our pants and go over. We find an older white man there in the cocksucker’s seat. Shaved Latino unzips and pushes his pants down to his knees. He sticks his dripping dick into the guy’s face. He fucks the man’s mouth hard. He means business. He leans over, thrusting his hand down the back of the older man’s pants. Shaved Latino’s bare ass is right in front of me. I go to my knees and lick him. I don’t expect the groan of pleasure from him. But he has his cock in a practiced mouth and his ass in my face. He grinds back on me. My cock is raging. I know I’m not going to fuck him, but just my tongue in an unexpected hole is hot as fuck. Suddenly the older guy worms out from under us. He gets up to leave, forcing us to stop. Shaved Latino is panting. I really want to drop a load. I’m blunt. “Can I eat your butt until I get off?” He looks at me for half a second before saying “Sure.’ He makes himself more comfortable, stepping out of his pants and underwear. We move deeper into the deserted room. He leans against the back of a chair, arching his ass at me. I go to my knees. My tongue traces down his fairly hairy crack. It burrows into his tight pucker. “Damn, you know what you’re doing…” I am so close. I keep licking and spitting and worming my tongue into his ever-loosening hole. He reaches back and grabs the back of my head and pulls me tightly into his ass. I can barely breathe—and it’s the perfect trigger. I erupt between his shoes, shooting the massive, built-up load… The original is here: From My Side of the Sling: Another Bookstore Bonanza February 5, 2024

To the pleasure of touch I am currently studying for a Certificate IV in massage therapy. The course is ten months, part-time, which I juggle alongside my full-time job as a machine operator for Michelin tyres. My primary goal in taking this course was to give my current and future partners great massages because no one can decline a free massage, the fastest way to a person’s heart is through physical touch, and I needed something new to fill my free time. For years, my daily routine was work, gym, eat, sleep, repeat. I wanted to break the cycle by deliberately adding an extra element: school. Life has been hectic, but it’s been rewarding. I am meeting new people in class, which is something rare and special as an adult, and learning skills to add to my bottomless pit of life’s toolkit. Today, I’m at my sister’s house party, celebrating Albert’s first birthday. Many people here know I’m studying massage, and soon enough, requests come my way—a sore neck, a tight back. I could easily say no, I’m tired, I have class tomorrow, maybe another time. But I don’t. I’m excited to help, even though acts of service are at the bottom of my five love language list. When my hands find the oil and then their backs, I think about why I feel this excitement and it takes a while before the answers hit me. After six relatives and three hours, I’m not tired. I thank my years of gym discipline for that. I’m not relieved it’s over. And, most of all, I don’t resent the time it took. Instead, I feel peace in easing their pain—whether it’s neck pain, back pain, or the ache of missing human touch. Even brief moments of touch can bring someone unexpected pleasure or healing. The last man I massage is drunk, and he falls asleep the moment he lies down on the table. He’s married, and I’ve had a small crush on him. I think to myself, this is the closest we’ll ever be. I massage his arm, and even in his sleep, he grips mine from time to time. I continue, steady, relieving the tension in his muscles and, maybe, some of the burdens this world has placed on him. Therefore, massage, to me, feels like an honourable step toward healing. A woman lies on the table, her back tight and solid like a wooden plank. I feel excitement because I know she desperately needs help, and I have the tools and knowledge to provide it. My hands become instruments of relief, if only temporarily, and that’s a powerful thing—to lessen someone’s burden, even for a moment.