When I was a kid - 14 to 22, I sought out the kind of degredation you're talking about...and I found it! The local cruising park and the adult bookstores were my favorite hangouts when my homework was done. But the absolute best spot for experienced, dirty older men to fuck/get fucked by was a certain gloryhole spot that was on the edge of town, at the end of an old toll road, barely used by then anymore. All kinds of strange dick showed up there at this place I discovered while hiking in my old suburban neighborhood when I was about thirteen, and just figuring out what testosterone could do to a boy. I instinctively knew what was happening, but it took me until I was about fifteen until I gathered the pubes and balls to figure out where my sexuality would lead.
Entering the outdated men's toilet was an apotheosis...I think I saw God when I breathed deeply of the decades of musk, it hit me that hard. I somehow instinctively knew this smell and fell in love. My still immature dick slammed straight up in my somewhat tight jeans to the point of pain. I watched as men - young, middle-aged and (as far as I was concerned then) elderly men shifted suddenly back to their crackled porcelain pissbowls; pants and underwear shifted into a semblance of decency for an incoming but unknown other. At first, furtive glances from the five or six men standing at the ten long row of 1920's vintage ripe, urinals made me self conscious, but within a second their mood had collectively shifted. They saw me immediately for what I was: virgin meat - curious and fresh (I was never able to hide my eager and homo natue) I felt immediately at home! Three of those men, Matt, Jason and George helped me settle really quickly into my new home! That first Saturday afternoon, they went easy on me: teaching me abpout the scents I smelled, strategies about throat relaxation and the tastes of men's tongues, foreskins, and asses.
It was autumn. I was a sophmore in high school, and I couldn't have had better teachers! Matt was in his mid twenties, enrolled in our local community college and very insistent. If I wasn't sure about something, he'd gently call mke l'il bro, show me how to perform my duty, then force me to figure it out on strangers before I could show my new skills on him. which led to my relationship with Jason. This man was special! a real whore among pigs, he's been my inspiration for twenty years now. He is the ONE who showed me my way into sleazy sex and whoredom; he's my forever pimp. He showed me to be a top and bottom pig to nearly anybody with a cock. Even now, I spend the occasional weekend with him and his husband, a brilliant engineer of toys, gadgets, and instruments. We take turns, sharing tales, tricks, and loads. Matt always insisted I learn to please Jason first. He reasoned, "if you can make his tongue loll out of his head and goon, you're a star, baby, trust me!" Then, of course, there was George. He was like an Uncle to all of us. Resting on his Black belly after a night of being turned out by him or his trucker buddies was always heaven for Matt, Jason and me. We were his boys, he watched us all grow up, and we all worshiped him. Being black myself, despite my lightness, he always treated me like his son. We all knew I was his "favorite". Only he, then later Jason, knew why at the time. His beautiful dark face always calmed me. His caramel voice advised me, and his words were always spot on in both life and matters of love. And of course, there was his massive, almost purple uncut cock: long skin, thick and with that omnipresent scent of smegma that was like poppers to me. Daddy George was actually the first person to put the amyl to my nose. Without warning that day we met, he simply said, "Breathe in deep, boy,".
By the time I graduated high school, my Pops, my actual dad, noticed I was somehow different than I was since I started puberty - he knew something was up, and said as much, too: "Son, are you ok, has something changed in your life you wanna talk about?"
"Well Dad, I'm feeling pretty good about my future. You know my grades are good and I've just been accepted to State. Why do you ask?" Well David, there's a family reunion this year in Maryland, and I was hoping there weren't any serious issues to prevent you from wanting to go," I paused. I hadn't gone to a family reunion for years, probably not since I was five. He had, but I hadn't. I always wondered why, but never seriously questioned it. I assumed because Mom didn't really get along with that side of the family, but now that she had passed, I figured Dad wanted to make some sort of fresh start.
"No Dad," I started. "I'm all for it, why not ask me before though?" His face darkened, "Well, Son, I thought it'd be better to meet everyone now that you're a little older and can understand our family connnections,"
I didn't understand until we flew to BWI Airport and we were greeted by my Uncle George!