Blowing Adonis - a Glory Hole Dream

I needed a quick break from Matt and the gang to clear the cobwebs.

This is a highly fictionalized account of a long-ago glory hole encounter. The only thing true in the story is the Big Gulp cup.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle for his editing.

I hope you enjoy.

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He looked like a preppie. And this wasn't a place preppies hung out, or at least not a place they hung out looking like preppies. This preppie didn't appear to care. He had the madras shorts, top-siders (no socks, of course) and the requisite two polo shirts. I couldn't see the logo on the one underneath but I had no doubt it was adorned with the same horse and polo player as the outer shirt. I didn't know, still don't, when prepsterism escape the Northeast but at the time it was unusual, except on a campus, to see a prepster in Lincoln, Nebraska. And, like I've said, I'd never seen one inside A.J.'s Adult Emporium. The 7-11 Big Gulp didn't quite go with the outfit either. The bugle in his shorts, on the other hand, was perfectly in keeping with the ambiance of A.J.'s, to say nothing of the fact it was a quite enticing bulge. I'd love to see more.

That lovely virus, HIV, had yet to escape the coasts, though it soon would. That ugly, evil fucking thing didn't even have a name yet. I spent my time worrying about herpes. Quaint, huh?

I don't know if the guy who owned the place was really named A.J. or if the toothless, malodorous crypt-keeper sitting behind the counter was the owner. What I did know is he'd start bellowing if you hung out too long without dropping some tokens. I stepped into one of the booths, dropped a token, and stabbed the selector button with my elbow until something with a couple of nice hard cocks started playing. I left the door open. A.J., if that was his name, didn't give a shit about that. As long as the red light above the door to the booth was lit, he was good.

If the prepster noticed me eyeballing him, he gave no indication. He sipped his Big Gulp and appeared to be trying to memorize the selections. There were thirty of them, only a half-dozen were gay or bi. This was in the era of VHS tape mind you, so you were lucky if half of them would play. I made sure my boner was visible beneath my 501s and stood in the open doorway, watching. I wonder if he knew how this place worked. He looked to be about my age, which was just old enough to get through the front door. I was hardly a veteran but I'd been here a few times in the months since I turned twenty-one. I was hoping he'd select the booth next to mine. He didn't. He selected one across the way - and he closed the door.

While I waited for my time to expire, I paid a little more attention to the video. It wasn't bad. By today's standards it was pretty tame. Wife comes in, catches her husband blowing the pizza delivery guy, threesome ensues. There was enough male on male to keep my attention. While I was watching, someone entered the booth to my right. I was standing. All I could see was his legs. His booth filled with light as he dropped a token. He only dropped one, like me, he was still scouting the opportunities. He had the volume down. I stooped and looked through the eight-inch square hole in the partition wall. On the screen, one guy was fucking another. Okay, not a wandering straight dude looking to watch what his wife refused to let him watch at home. He was standing. I couldn't see his face but his body looked okay. He wasn't skinny but he didn't have much of a gut either. I couldn't see anything stirring behind his zipper.

My video died. Decision time. Risk another token or scoot across and scope out the prepster. The guy grabbed his crotch and squeezed. A bird in the hand, you know the saying. I dropped another token. My dick was already hard, fuck, to be that young again. I wasn't wearing a belt or underwear, so once I unbuttoned the fly, all I had to do was fish out my cock. I like my cock. I think it's my best feature. It's the Goldilocks of cocks, not too big, not too small, not too fat, not to thin. I milked a drop of precum and rubbed it over the head, making it glisten in the dim light. A finger appeared in the hole. It withdrew. I put my finger through the hole. I wanted to see his dick. I was more interested in sucking cock than getting blown. He didn't undo his belt. He unzipped and fished around in his pants for a second and pulled out his dick. He wasn't hard yet. I guessed he was middle-aged based on the skin on the back of his hand. The few pubes I could see at the base of his cock were dark. He was uncut, not that it mattered unless a guy's dick was all cheesy. In that case, no thanks.

I love getting a cock hard with my mouth. I went to my knees, knowing the cold concrete was disgusting but not caring about the stains I'd be grinding into the knees of my jeans. I looked through the hole. Yup, middle-aged. Not bad looking. He turned towards me and pressed his legs against the partition. I tilted my head and gobbled up his soft cock. If you've never sucked a cock I'm afraid I can't really describe it to you. If you have sucked a cock, you'll be disappointed in my description. Fair warning. Cock usually tastes salty, unless you're sucking off someone in the shower. It's hot inside your pants and your basic cock, being pulled out of your basic jeans, has been sweating. Sweat is salty, thus the cock is salty. Cum is not salty but cock often is.

The texture of cock head doesn't change much. It gets bigger when a cock gets hard but it's still relatively squishable. The shaft is squishable too, until it gets hard. A really hard cock is a marvel inside your mouth. Soft skin over hard steel. Feeling a cock go from squishy to rock hard in your mouth, and knowing your mouth is what's causing it, now that is an amazing thing.

I took the whole thing in my mouth, pressing my lips against the cold roughness of his zipper. I pursed my lips and pulled back, milking the shaft. I keep doing this and with each withdrawal, each mouth milking, his cock got harder. The other aspect of starting off with a soft cock I particularly enjoy is the anticipation of seeing how big it will get. To be honest, I've never stopped blowing a guy just because his cock wasn't very big. Really big cocks can be a problem, even after years of experience. I do pretty well, if I do say so myself, but I hate gagging. I don't mind getting mouth fucked but I am not, and never have been, into some fucker grabbing my head and banging away while I'm retching. Fuck that.

His cock came along nicely. It wasn't as long as mine, I didn't think, but it was fatter. I could take it all without any problem. And take it I did, pressing my nose into his unzipped fly. The smell of cock is as amazing as the taste and texture. I like sucking a cock in the middle of the afternoon. That gives a guy's crotch time to smell like cock without being rank. Hell, the end of the day is okay, even the next morning. The suckers of cock amongst you will understand. There's a fine line between man musk and funk. Like cock cheese, I'm not a fan of funk but I do love it when cock smells like cock and not shampoo.

He stepped back and motioned. I understood. I wasn't here just to blow my load and neither was he. I stood up and pushed my cock through the hole. His tongue touched the slit. I knew he was tasting my dew. Cool. He swallowed my cock in one smooth motion and pulled back slow, making the shaft slick with spit. After that, he kept his mouth and lips on the head and used his hand to stroke my shaft. His other hand cupped my balls. I let him suck me for a few minutes, not that it was a sacrifice on my part, he knew what he was doing; it felt great. He let my cock fall free and twisted his head to suck up one of my balls. He sucked a little too hard and I winced. He let go.

"Sorry".

"No prob, man. It's cool. Let me suck you some more. Let me play with your nuts."

He stepped back as I went back down on my knees. He unbuckled his belt and thumbed open his pants. Tightie whities. Fuck it; I knew he was middle-aged. He pushed his underwear and pants down and shuffled back to the hole. He had giant fucking nuts. I could barely get one in my mouth. I stroked him as I nuzzled his balls. In the position I was in, I could see the crack around the door of my booth. Across the way, the red light over the prepster's booth went out. The booths on either side of his were unoccupied. Would he stay? I wouldn't. I'd have scoped out the situation. Mid-afternoon may be the best time to find just the right degree of sweaty, musky cock but it was also a time when most guys were back at work. The place was quiet.

His door opened. I watched, one ball in my mouth, I watched him glance up and down the aisle. There were five booths per side and another ten on the other aisle. The display, advertising the video options was at the junction of the two aisles. He could move to the other aisle. There had been one occupied booth when I looked earlier. He looked up and down and then straight across.

I let the ball fall out of my mouth. I started stroking the side of the shaft with my partially opened lips, keeping my eye on the prepster. He crossed to the door. Fuck, yeah! I remember begging him to look through the crack. He did. I made sure I caught his eye as I continued to stroke that lovely hard cock with my lips. After I caught his eye, I took the cock in my mouth, keeping my head turned slightly to watch the prepster's eyes. I deep-throated the cock, savoring it as much as the eyes that followed my every motion.

I reached up and opened the door. The prepster jumped back. I was pissed at myself for pushing too hard but what was done was done. I left the door opened and kept sucking the other guy's cock. That was my primary focus. He wanted his cock sucked. I wanted to suck it. And, I wanted to suck it like a pro. I wanted the prepster, too but I had to prioritize, didn't I?

The prepster retreated into the booth he'd just vacated. He put the straw in his mouth and took a drink of whatever he had in that Big Gulp cup. He seemed to be content watching and I was happy to be watched. So, I sucked cock.

I added my hand, stroking him with a twisting motion, following my mouth up and down his cock. I did a series of rapid head pops, pursing my lips around the crown and popping the head in and out as fast as I could. I milked some precum, stretched it out with the tip of tongue. I was inspired. I had an audience for the first time and I loved it. I stroked my own cock occasionally, making sure the prepster got a good look at it, willing him to pull his own out.

"I'm going to cum."

I love a polite shooter.

"Give to me, man."

I settled back on my heels and put my tongue under the head. I stroked with my hand, waiting for his load. I had an audience. I wanted the prepster to watch me take a load on my tongue, in my mouth, on my face.

Bam! No matter how much you're anticipating it, the first shot is always a surprise. I jumped a little, I admit, but I didn't pull my mouth away. The first couple of streams landed on my cheek and side of my nose. I pointed his cock down slightly and the rest went where it was supposed to, on my tongue and in my mouth. Like a lot of guys in joints like A.J.'s, he pulled back and started pulling his pants almost before his cock quit spurting. I stood and faced the door, faced the prepster. I wiped the cum off my face with one finger and sucked it clean. The guy from the adjacent booth hurried past, looking down at his feet. No doubt, he was on his knees that night praying to be cured of his sin. I hope he's doing well. That he made it through safely.

The prepster watched me wipe the cum off my face and eat it. My video cut out. I dropped a token.

"If you ain't watching a movie, get the fuck out!" A.J. bellowed on cue.

I was impressed. He might be a newbie but the prepster never jumped. I held out my hand, palm covered with tokens. He shook his head, reached into his pants, past that fucking tantalizing bulge, pulled out a token and dropped it. He didn't bother to check to see what was playing. I rested my ass against the stool and slowly stroked my cock. My jeans were still on my hips. Hungry as I was for cock, I don't like kneeling with bare knees on the nasty floor. I heard boots on the concrete and pulled the door part way closed. Not everyone who came in here was looking for dick. And some of those who weren't looking for dick might be looking for an excuse to cause trouble. Getting arrested for brawling in a peep show, especially when the other guy would claim I'd come on to him, was not on my list of things to have happen.

The guy was a little older than me. He had on a mechanics uniform that had a name patch sewn on that said "Rick".

So much for anonymity

, I recall thinking. He paused, peeking around the door, eyed me and my cock for a moment and then over at the prepster, whose cock was still in his pants and he still clutched a Big Gulp in his left hand. The mechanic went into the booth to my right, if I faced the video, the same booth the other guy had vacated a few minutes earlier.

There was the metallic clink of a token bouncing its way into the guts of the video machine. Light flicker through the hole. I bent to look through the hole. He was already unbuckling his belt. He unzipped and let his work pants fall around his boots. His legs were hard muscle covered in dark hair. His pubic hair was a dense forest of jet black curls. I had an almost overwhelming urge to shove my head through the hole and bury my nose in that nest of curls. Fortunately, I was spared the embarrassment of getting my head caught in a glory hole by his haste. His cock was thrusted through the opening before I could get to my knees. His cock was half-hard. I slurped it up and pressed my face into his belly. I did my best to engrave that scent into my brain. To this day, he smelled more of 'man' than any other man I've had the pleasure of pleasuring.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw prepster inching closer to my booth. The light above his glowed, so A.J. wouldn't be a problem. It would be a problem if he stood in the door. A.J. ignored the "One Patron Per Booth" signs but you had to make it easy for him to do so. I motioned with my head, gesturing that he should step inside but he remained, leaning against the wall, looking around the corner periodically. I mentally shrugged my shoulders and concentrated my attention on the cock in my mouth.

I could feel his cock pumping up, exactly as if his dick was an inner tube that someone was using a hand pump to inflate. Jesus, what a beautiful cock that was. Lifetime top ten, maybe even numero uno. Bigger than mine with a flared crown that just begged for my lips to fasten around it. I deep throated him a few times. I held him deep in my throat, letting it throb. I could feel my throat expand in time with his heartbeat. He was here for a cum dump, no question. He pushed his cock as deep as it would go and then pulled back and began to fuck my mouth. I let him. I made a tunnel of my fists, turning my hands, mouth, and throat into a cunt for his pleasure.

I was vaguely aware of another person walking back and forth, watching. Prepster was back in his booth, dropping another token. The pacer would need to find a home or A.J. would start yelling. He elected to pop in the booth on my left, which, at the moment, was to my back. Normally, I would alternate but the mechanic would have none of that. He was here to bust a nut and bust it fast. I prayed he'd suffered a long dry spell and would have a nice big juicy load of jizz to feed me.

I worried I was becoming a cum addict, or at the very least, cum obsessive. It was a 45-minute drive from my little college to Lincoln. Gas wasn't cheap and I wasn't rich. Still, this was my fourth visit in a little over a month. In the months before that, I'd only come twice. I was a rare weekend I wasn't working. I was skipping my afternoon classes for the pleasure of kneeling on a cum-covered floor to suck strangers' cocks. That couldn't be right. I worried about it but I wasn't worrying about it with the mechanic's cock in my mouth. At the moment, all that I worried about was him filling me the fuck up. In high school, it was accepted knowledge that Rod Stewart had OD'ed on jizz and had to have his stomach pumped. I still have no idea if it's possible to OD on cum, if it is I've never hit the mark.

The mechanic's thrusts slowed but became more insistent. He snuck a hand through the hole and put it on top of my head. I didn't mind as long as he didn't pull my hair. If he pulled my hair, game over. I'd kneel in cum but I had my limits.

His cock felt like it swelled to twice its already generous size and then deflated as cum flooded my mouth. I put my hand under my chin as part of his gift flowed past my lips. I wanted to pull back, to let prepster see him cum in my mouth but I couldn't. His fingers didn't pull at my hair but they clutched at my skull. His cock was deep in my throat. Wave after wave of cum, washed up and into my mouth. It was hard to swallow with his cock in the way but I did my best. When the cum stopped, he held still. I sucked softly at his tender dick, not wanting to waste a drop. He pushed his hips toward me a few times. From the other side of the partition I heard, "oh fuck, oh yeah, oh fuck". I smiled inside. I'd done well.

When he pulled back, I stood up. A long line of precum hung from my cock. The prepster still stood, watching, sipping from his Big Gulp. I started to turn, to see what was going on in the booth behind me, when the mechanic stopped in the door. He stepped in, put a hand behind my neck and kissed me. I was fucking shocked. It was just a quick peck on the lips but I'd never, ever, kissed a man before.

"Fucking outstanding, man. Fucking outstanding." That's all he said. Then he was gone. I think about him more than any other, more even than the prepster. Rick, that's what his name tag said. I hope he's alive and kicking and married to some guy half his age that sucks his dick even better than I did. I almost buttoned my pants and went after him. I wonder what would have happened if I had? Almost certainly a whole lot of nothing, or more probably a lot of "what's your fucking problem, man" but what if it had been a beer or a coffee?

I didn't button up and go after him. I turned to the other booth. There was a face in it. Another middle-aged guy. He stood up. His dick was average.

"Here you go, I got something for you. Suck it."

"Uh, no thanks." I turned my attention to the movie. It was still two dudes and a chick, different threesome. I punched the button. Two guys. Better.

"Come on. Suck it. You know you want to."

"No, I don't. Thanks, but no thanks."

"What the fuck? Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. If I wanted to suck your dick, I'd suck it. Don't fucking tell me to suck your dick. You wonder 'what the fuck'? What the fuck is I'll suck who I want. I don't fucking owe you money. Don't fucking wave your dick around and tell me to suck. Fuck you. Am I clear?"

"Fuck you."

"Nope, you're not doing that either."

My token ran out and I left the booth. I considered grabbing one by the prepster but he was starting to irritate me a little. I moved to the one the mechanic had occupied, more than a little curious to see if the prepster would follow. I dropped a token, found my movie and sat on the stool. Someone entered the booth I'd just left. I glanced over. It wasn't the pushy fucker. This guy was a little pudgy around the middle. He sat, dropped a token, and began to punch through the channels. He stopped on one of a chick sucking off some guy. I watched my movie, stroking my dick and every now and again I'd glance over. He just sat there, watching straight porn. No big deal, when my token ran out there were plenty of booths. There weren't plenty of cocks this afternoon but I had the rest of the day, or as much of it as my tokens would take me.