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  Part 1.

 

  It was a Saturday on Market Street when I rambled through the crowd into the small shop where I worked.  When the bell on that door clanged, it was like stepping back at least 60 years when your foot firmly planted on the well worn warehouse wood floor and the mixed scents of the tobacco took over from the now almost sterile air of the street.  I worked in what was a true anachronism in these health obsessed days—an actual tobacconist.  In here there was a safe haven for the last of the smokers.  In here, you could feel free to take a deep draw on the smoke of your choice and there wasn’t a stink-eye in the place.  Well, unless you were stupid and green and just wanted a pack of Marlboro Ultra Lites because “I only smoke when I drink!”

     That line was always delivered in exactly the same way: a flourish, a giggle, and a twenty dangled offhandedly at you, never toward you.  For those, you banged out the transaction on the register and tossed the change at the counter, never toward them.  Assholes can sweep up their change.

    It was moments like this, and chasing off the dead eyed bro-stoners in their year-round cargo shorts and teva sandals who touristed the hell out of the pipe selection, always trying slyly to prize out a secret stash of glass pipes.  “Head shop is six blocks over,” and a distinct nod at the front door to demonstrate we were at the end of our interaction.  

     “How are things tonight, Mick?” I asked as I passed my buddy behind the counter and made my way back to the barbers chairs set strategically in front of the walk in humidor.

    “Calm before the storm,” Mick laughed.  The streets outside were packed tonight, maybe a little more than usual, with a different flavor to the air than usual as well.  “They’re having some sort of Leather something or other up at The Hammer and Anvil tonight.  Probably gonna be some interesting folks in, I’ve already seen some assless chaps and they look like they mean business,” Mick laughed around his ever present cigar.  I felt myself flush a little, some tightness developed in my jeans as I tossed that image around in my head.  I sat down in the well worn leather of the barber chair and crossed my legs to adjust the growing discomfort downstairs.  

    I had recently come through my divorce.  It had been a bitch of a time, but I dealt with it like any sane individual.  Namely I drank way too much and made as many bad choices as I could possibly access.  The drinking was now mostly back in check.  Mostly.  The other choices, well, I was beginning to see them as not so bad as I got further into them.  

    As I reclined back in the chair, still getting harder, the thoughts of those assless chaps were banging hard inside my head.  Right before the divorce, when things were getting out of hand, I escaped to the seedier side of town and the adult bookstore that dimly glowed like a vaguely Pizza Hut shaped pimple is the center of a large parking lot.  When I was younger, it was a taste of real rebellion.  Getting ankle deep in porn when there was no internet to pump it directly into your skull was a real buzz.  It smelled like danger and it had those doors to the back rooms and the video booths.  At that time I never had the stones to venture back and explore.  Just picked out a Hustler and maybe a Barely Legal to jack to.  But my eyes, and my mind, always were magnetically drawn to those dark entrances.  I could never shake that.

    So, with the marriage heading south and a head full of lager, finally I ventured back.  Got my tokens at the register and in to the unknown I did dive.  Quickly I took a dim walk around the maze of booths to figure out what to do.  It was pretty self explanatory so, without making eye contact with the ten or so guys loitering around, I slid into a booth.  After dropping my tokens, the TV behind the plexiglass began to blast my eyes.  As my pupils finally constricted enough, I saw the channel was on gay porn.  I went to switch it, but the switch was in about the shape you’d imagine it to be.  So I was watching one guy do an absolutely miraculous blowjob on another guy who clearly had a special effect for a cock.  It was mesmerizing and my own cock immediately leapt to attention.  I undid my jeans and yanked it free from my boxers and started the five finger shuffle.

    Just then, a note skittered under the door, ricocheting a bit off the sole of my shoe.  I dipped down to see what it was and, unfolded it said three simple words: “suck your dick?”

     I broke into a cold sweat immediately.  I’d never been anywhere near this kind of action but goddamn I wouldn’t mind getting my dick sucked right now.  I slipped the bolt and the door popped immediately open and in slid a guy who was pretty much the trashiest guy I’d ever seen.  He had a trucker hat on and a grey sweatshirt and bam, he was on my cock.  No words, no eye contact, no nothing but my cock in his mouth and he worked it like there was some kind of cure buried inside my balls.  And the weirdness made me even harder.  As hard as I’d ever been.  He sucked and tongued and licked and sucked again so hard I thought he was going to give me a full dick hickey.  As lost as I was, I had zero control and after about three minutes total I unloaded like a fire hydrant that just took a direct hit from a truck.  He sucked it all in really quickly, then he turned his head and spit it right on the floor and then, poof, out the door he went.

    There I was, some cum still dripping off my cock along with plenty of saliva, and I was both grossed out and completely hooked.  It was a pump of weird adrenaline that I knew I needed to keep feeling.  But for now I had to get the hell out before I passed out from the sensory overload.

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6 minutes ago, grayhoss said:

Hoping for cigar dudes, myself. :) Great story, so far!

Cigars are great, but pipes are better and make my cock harder. ?

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To each, his own. Personally, been stuck on cigarguys from an early age, probably because my Uncle and cousin were both into em..and half the hot  guys in Tampa. Pipes..well, just don't hit the same sweetspot for me. *chuckle*

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Every time I think that the art of fiction writing is nearly dead, along comes an author giving us a top-notch story. A huge thanks for the time and effort you’ve already put into this.

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Thanks for all the kind words!  I’m going to have another chapter up as soon as possible...

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Gotta agree with what's already been said -- perfect balance of great writing and hot action. 

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Please tell me you write professionally, your way with words is really marvelous. Also, thanks for my new pornstar name: Dick Hickey, lol

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Part 2.

 

    I drifted out of my little dreamland and got off my ass to get to work.  As I straightened up, I felt the wet spot generated by my free flowing precum press against my shaved pubic area.  It felt hot and cold at the same time as my cock slithered down into a relaxed arrangement and I love that feeling.  I keep perfectly shaved at all times for just such moments.  Well, that and it keeps me mentally and physically in my place.

    As I wandered behind the counter and mostly sleepwalked into my job I ran back over in my mind what made me such a complete bottom, a submissive, a toy really.  That’s what got me off-being used, and used well.

   In my second bookstore venture, I had sneaked off yet again, my then wife blissfully passed out from three glasses of wine too many.  I was coming down off my beer rush and had settled into finding my next rush, a burst of something that would blow me out of myself and away from the tedious bullshit every day ground into.  Back to the bookstore.  Back to those booths.  But this time around, I needed something different to light my fuse.  The blowjob I had gotten had fueled some good jerking, but I always landed back on that last gesture.  He had spit my cum out like it was on fire and evaporated back out into the dark.  Thinking endlessly about it, I realized I was barely involved at all.  And I needed to be as deep into this as I could take myself.   So I bought my tokens and into the back I went.  

   I settled into a corner booth.  The corners had just that much more room to move around in.  Or at least a touch less claustrophobia.  This time around I left the door unlatched and slightly open.  What I needed would find its way in and this journey would begin.  And as quickly as I popped several tokens down the slot, the door lightly creaked open and two guys stepped in.  They looked to be in their 50’s and pretty nicely dressed.  Polo shirts and chinos and nicely worn shoes.  They looked at me as I sat on the bench and I nodded.  The door was closed in a smooth, quiet motion.  The next move was clearly up to me, and I moved off the bench toward them and immediately went to my knees.  I had never sucked a cock before, but whatever sat there in the back of my skull, the thing that had brought me here, the thing hungry for that rush knew it wanted those cocks in my mouth.  Now.

   They unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped and a foot in front of my face were two hard dicks.  For starters, I went left.  I don’t know why, and I didn’t care.  The tight mushroom of the head was now between my lips and I got the first tangy drop of another man’s precum on the top of my tongue.  Immediately I was hooked.  I moved forward and slid him into me, working that shaft with my lips and tongue, nursing on that hardness like a newborn.  A fully newborn cocksucker.  And I worked that angle for all I was worth, pulling back, diving deep, every back and forth bring more of that sweet precum into me hungry mouth.  He relaxed some, and then lightly placed his hands on my head.  I was lost in every nerve firing in my mouth and barely noticed him pushing me more firmly down his spit slicked prick.  My hands found his ass and worked in tandem with his own pulling and he moved faster and deeper into my mouth, lightly breaching my throat every few strokes.  My cheeks hollowed with the suction I was generating and I was finally outside of myself, farther than any drink or drug had ever taken me.  Then, his grip tightened, fingers wrapped in my hair.  I was far enough down to touch his balls with my extended tongue and I felt them draw up, and—bam—he unloaded.  My formerly hollowed cheeks inflated with cum, and it was a lot.  More than I’d ever pumped out, more than I’d imagined could be pumped out.  My brain lit up like Rockefeller Center on New Years Rockin’ Eve and the taste and feel of all that cum turned my world upside down.  As I gulped and choked and sputtered I knew I was right where I needed to be: servicing a hard cock.  He pulled back and I was locked up, in a daze of pure heat.  And in that daze, the voice of his partner rang in from the right.  I turned my head and saw him furiously pumping his cock,  “I got so turned on I couldn’t wait,” he hissed, “this is for you cocksucker.”  And with that he unloaded a massive load directly into my face.  It was thick and hot and sliding down toward my jawline and chin.  I began to reach up to push that load into my mouth and he grabbed my wrists.  “Leave that cum on your face, cocksucker,” he said, having recovered his deep voice from his earlier scratchy hiss.  “Wear that out of this place and let everyone see what you are.”  By the time I processed that, they were on the other side of the door.  

    After a few minutes of recovery, I pushed off my knees and headed out myself.  I wore that cum through the showroom full of dildos and dirty magazines and out to my car.  It almost looked like a mask, but I knew the face I had before was the real mask.  This face now, soaked and dripping with cooling semen, that was my true face.  And there was no looking back.

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