One of my first experiences with a straight stranger took place some years ago after moving to a large city with a number of 24 hour movie houses. My fascination with the unconscious, sleeping, drunk, unconsenting form had been awakened several years earlier so the potential was obvious. After exploring several of these at various hours of the night and day, I found the expected variety of older alcoholics who used the seedier of these theaters as flop houses, but I also found that there was a very interesting element of young tourists that could not afford a hotel. These I was later to learn, and to be recounted in the future if there is interest, were frequently soundly asleep in the hour or two before the cleanup crew started working around 8 a.m.
Back to the Porno move house. At several times the admission of the other 24 hour theaters, this had a different crowd, but the added interest of often drunk, straight guys jacking off to the straight porno on the large screen and from time to time as the screen would brighten they were in clear view with their equipment out. A visit or two also brought to my attention that at times drink, many hours without sleep or a combination of both took hold and rendered an otherwise unconsenting guy "available."
On this, my first "hands on" experience at this theater, I followed the unwitting subject into the theater I had noticed him weaving half a block away and had hoped he would find his way to one of these theaters. Maybe he was 25, wearing tight white jeans, T-shirt and a light jacket. A bright wedding band on the ring finger of his left hand. A trim, fit, construction worker build. As he approached the ticket booth of what was to become a favorite theater, my heart was pounding. He produced the admission and after a short pause, I paid my own admission. He had not noticed me.
He sat toward the wall just under the overhang of the balcony and as the other seven or eight seats on that side were empty I sat on the aisle of the same row. He was still oblivious to my presence. After a few minutes he got out his handkerchief and started to jack off under this cover. This modesty turned me on all the more. After he came, it didn't take more than ten minutes to hear a light snore from his end of the row.
I moved in but still sat with one empty seat between us while I watched for a while and looked around to see who else might be watching us. Everyone else seemed to be focused on the screen. I always tried to give the appearance of having had a few myself, when in fact, I wanted nothing else clouding my own high of the conquest. I started to lean in his direction, as though I myself was falling asleep in the event anyone noticed.
No one seemed to know that either of us was there. He had lost consciousness with his hands crossed on top of his cum filled handkerchief which still covered his now limp dick which with his balls was out of his zipper.
His breathing was regular and slow. I reached over put my hand on his. No reaction. Slowly I lifted his left hand and put it right back. Still no reaction. Even more slowly, I moved his left hand to his left leg and let it rest. His continued regular breathing encouraged me further and I reached under the handkerchief, just moving the right hand slightly. I could feel the sticky mess. I removed my hand after what seemed an eternity, and enjoyed both the scent and then the taste (this was pre AIDS) of his musky seed. Getting bolder yet, I moved his right hand and removed the handkerchief. I get hard to this day just looking at this talisman. Locked in a baggy all these years his starchy scent and DNA survive, perhaps beyond his own physical life.
