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As a teenager I had plenty of girlfriends and sex was fine but they all gave lousy blow jobs. Fooled around with a couple of guys and that was better but I was expected to blow them back and I never was into it. Figured it was the price of getting blown, I guess.

At 18 I moved to Los Angeles and started hitting bars. West Hollywood was a turnoff. Shrieking packs of queens, shitty music. Tried the baths with no better luck. I looked like a rockabilly mechanic blue-collar type and didn’t see anyone like me there.

Eventually I went to a popular leather bar in east Hollywood. More disappointed than ever — just guys posing in expensive leather outfits. But I asked around and someone told me about a rougher leather bar called Cuffs in Silverlake.

Cuffs was more my style. Super dark, lit with red lights. Ominous industrial music instead of gay bar crap. There were two one-holer toilets with the doors sawed off around knee length so the bartender could make sure only one person used it at a time. And fuck was it cruisy. It sounded like, felt like, smelled like sex. And real bikers, not the fake ones from the other leather bar.

The bartender looked like a Viking, not a bear. Can’t remember his name but on my second visit (I was 19 then) he said, “Hey, there you are” like he was expecting me. I’d sit at the bar, shoot the shit with him a bit, check out the room, neck a few Buds and work my way through my box of Marlboros (you could smoke in bars then and I’d started smoking at 14). Got laid a few times from there and was already having much better sex.

One night the Viking said, “I’m going to [place name] after work, you should go by.” He said it wasn’t a bathhouse or a traditional sex club exactly but I’d like it. He gave me the address and I went over early.

It was in back of a shitbox mini-mall on Melrose in an industrial stretch of east Hollywood, right by the 101 freeway. The business facing the street was a tire shop, I think. But on the side there was a cluster of about a dozen cars around a doorway with a light above it. No sign. I parked and opened the door, a little nervous.

An older dude was behind a counter. He took $5 from me and I went in.

I guess it had been offices years ago but now there were just a couple of couches and some chairs in the main room along with a raised plywood area. Concrete floors. Two bathrooms with the doors removed. A dozen guys were surrounding the plywood riser, beating their meat while a guy who looked like a convict was getting his ass railed by a hairy, stocky guy with a big dick. Instant hard-on for me.

The other guys were all beating their meat to the scene. After a minute I pulled mine out and it was a fucking diamond cutter of a hard-on. I was fascinated. I didn’t know sex could be like that.

The guy next to me was probably about 40. Red-brown hair under a baseball cap, brush mustache in the same color. Work shirt. He took one look at my 19-year-old cock, reversed the ball cap, sank to his knees, and took my whole cock in his mouth.

Fuck. It was incredible. My girlfriends had always sort of jacked me off with their mouths barely on my dick, but this good-looking guy who was my dad’s age wanted it all. He grabbed my ass through my Levis and face-fucked himself until I got the message and started doing it on my own. I was getting true deep-throat, balls hitting his chin, with no other thought than making myself feel good.

I wish I could say it lasted longer. I was still a teen and couldn’t hold out. But something amazing happened. When I felt myself start to come, I pulled back a little and this guy wasn’t having it. He grabbed my ass HARD and held my dick down his throat while I had the best orgasm of my fucking life to that point. I saw stars.

When I finished, he sort of sighed, stood up, turned his hat back around, leaned in and said, “Thanks, buddy.” He smelled like sweat and tobacco, not cologne. And that was it. I didn’t have to blow him. He didn’t WANT me to blow him. He didn’t want to know my name. I didn’t want to know his. I used my cock for the reason it was intended and he did the same with his throat.

That night, at the age of 19, I got absolutely fucking addicted to anon, hard sex between men. I didn’t have to follow the gay crowd and all its stupid trends and put-ons. There were other guys out there who wanted what I had and I was happy to give it to them.

Wish I could remember the name of this place, but it set me on the road for the best sex of my life. No cuddling and kissing in bed. Just fucking pure anonymous sex where each guy gets what he needs and goes his separate way.

I learned what made me come, and come hard: the feeling of an anon throat balls-deep on my cock.

 

 

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