This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the previous chapter, C'est La Vie! 9, I described how I had a post-graduation summer job at a gay hotel in San Francisco's Castro and how a stunning black guest seduced me for his first gay experience and I ended up back in his room when my shift was done.
C'est La Vie!: 1982, The Adonis
My career at the Midwestern university wound up in June of 1980. After a summer working in San Francisco, I moved to New York, got a job and worked on my paintings and drawings in a spare corner of my apartment. That, and I had a lot of hot times at the bars of the West Village, and even ventured out to the notorious Hudson Piers a couple of times. There were a couple of gay movie houses, where they played large-screen porn and you could meet guys to suck or jerk off in the seats, or go to a room behind the screen for sex.
AIDS was not in the public consciousness yet, and it would rear its ugly head and claim some of my friends and acquaintances in the coming years. For my part, I had been using condoms for anal sex for a while after getting a painful urethral infection. After seeing a doctor--himself gay!--he advised me to use condoms when having sex, and so I am here to write this tale now. Who knew that they would become de rigueur in a few short years?
After a year in New York, I was accepted into a prestigious graduate program in fine arts in Philadelphia, and moved there for my three years of grad school. Philly is a great town, much more human in scale than New York and not as likely to eat you alive. Nevertheless, it is easy to get to the Big Apple, and cheaper to live there, so in many ways it is ideal for an artist. So after getting my degree, I stayed there and I settled happily into both the art life and the gay life in Philly, hanging out at art bars or openings earlier in the evening, and retiring to the bars of the Gayborhood or the baths later to find some sex. I also had some very enjoyable extended affairs with several guys, both my age and older, though most lasted just a few months.
By 1987 I would be living in a loft in Philadelphia, painting and teaching part time at one of the local art schools. But every few weeks since I had moved to Philly in 1982, I took the train to New York to visit the art galleries or a museum or two. Often, at the end of my visit, I would go to the Adonis Theater, the notorious gay porn theater on 8th Avenue near 51st St.
The Adonis was a faded movie palace from the twenties, a big place with crumbling plaster, sprung seats and lots of men looking for sex. It was dark and a bit grungy--did they ever clean the joint?--but if you were young and even marginally hot you could always find a good time there, usually short and anonymous encounters. You just had to be careful not to sit under the edge of the balcony, where you might be showered with semen from above.
Anyway, late one afternoon in April of 1982, when I was 24, I stepped into the darkened theater and stood for a couple of minutes to get my eyes adjusted to the gloom. There were perhaps 50 or 60 men scattered around the place, some sitting by themselves, others sitting together, engaged in making out, stroking each other, or sucking cock.
I slowly walked down the aisle to see if there was anyone I would like to cruise. There were a couple of possibilities, but I decided to watch the film for a while and see what happened. I ended up toward the back of the theater, in the middle of an otherwise deserted row.
Now there is a certain etiquette, if you will, in gay porn theaters. If you sit on an aisle seat, it is a signal that you're not inviting a partner. If you sit farther in the row, 3-4 seats, it is a signal that someone can sit down with a seat or two between you, and you can use your eyes or gestures to invite that guy to move closer. If you sit in the middle of the row, it is either a signal that you want to be alone, or, conversely, that you want more privacy with a potential partner.
As I watched the film (they were films then, not videos), my cock quickly hardened watching the young, muscular men on the screen sucking each other next to a pond in the woods. I unzipped my fly and slipped my fingers in so that I could rub my hard cock through my underwear. After a little while, I unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my jeans so that I could pull my cock out, but I left my jeans all the way up so that I could easily cover up with my hands if I wanted to.
After about fifteen minutes, the door to the theater opened, and a man entered, stopping, as I had, to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. I knew he couldn't see me yet, and so I looked straight at him. He looked to be about my age. He was tall, slim, wearing a button-up short sleeve shirt and jeans. He had dark hair and a handsome, chiseled face. I could see from his bare arms, showing a nice swell of biceps emerging from the sleeves of his shirt, that he was lean but well-built.
After a couple of minutes, he glanced in my direction. I had put my hands over my crotch so that he could not see my erection. He held my eyes briefly and then started down the aisle, doing the same kind of tour that I had done earlier. He passed in front of the first row, slowing now and again to exchange glances with one of the men in the theater, then started up the other aisle until he came to my row. He looked at me and smiled a little, then entered the row and sat down two seats away from me. He glanced over at me once more and then turned his attention to watching the film.
I went back to caressing my hard cock, but shielded it from his sight with my other hand. He occasionally glanced over, and I stopped each time. A couple of minutes later, he unzipped his fly and shoved his hand in to caress his own cock. He kept that up for about ten minutes, and then he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and, lifting his butt off the seat, pushed them down to the top of his thighs. He looked over at me, and while holding my gaze, pushed his white briefs down around his hard cock so that I could make out its dimensions.
His cock was lying sideways in his briefs, and looked to be about seven inches, and proportionally thick, curving up a little, and with a nice ample set of balls. Looking at me and smiling, he ran his hand up and down his hard cock, licking his lips and slouching down more in his seat. Still caressing his hard-on, he used his other hand to unbutton his shirt and then push it aside so that I could see his whole torso glistening in the light from the screen. His slim body was ripped and defined, but not bulky. His chest was smooth, and there was a little treasure trail leading down into his briefs.
Still looking at me, he pulled his waistband over his cock and it sprang out and pointed up toward his chin. He licked his lips as he took it in his hand and started to slowly stroke himself. My gaze was fixated on his lovely, young, hard cock, circumcised, the skin taught and shiny on the head, beautiful veins down the sides, and a perfect set of balls.
I uncovered my own cock so that he could see it, and slowly stroked myself. He stared at it with rapt attention, involuntarily licking his lips as he did. Then his eyes met mine and we locked gazes for what seemed like an eternity, but was just a few seconds. He put his hand on the seat between us and patted it lightly, inviting me to move over next to him. I got up from my seat and moved over, moving my daypack along to the seat next to me.
When I sat down next to him he looked at me for a few seconds, smiling, and then put his arm around me and pulled me into a kiss. As we kissed, we sought out each other's hard cocks and gently caressed them as our tongues explored each other's mouths. I moved my hand up from his cock to his belly, slowly moving it up to feel the slim, muscled body under silky, warm skin. I found one of his nipples, erect and hard, and caressed it as we kissed and he gently stroked my cock.
I moved my hand back down and stroked his cock once again as we continued to make out. He whispered softly, "Oh, god, that feels so good. It's been such a long time. Please don't stop."
I let my kisses move to his ear and his neck, then slowly worked my way to his chest and nipples, slowly moving down his body as I stroked his cock slowly and sensuously. "Oh, fuck, that's so hot," he whispered, understanding what was coming next.
Finally, I was bent over him, his cock inches from my mouth. I moved down more so that I could kiss it, and then let my tongue roam around the head, up and down the shaft to his balls, all the while caressing his hardness with my fingers.
Finally, I put his cock into my mouth, using the softest pressure, descending all the way to his pubes and back up again. I moved up and down a few times, making him moan in pleasure, and then stopped.
"Let me get something," I said, and I reached over to my day pack and opened the small outside pocket to retrieve a small bottle of poppers.
"Do you like these?" I asked.
"What are they?" he said.
"Poppers, amyl" I said.
"I've never tried them," he said, "are they dangerous?"
"No" I said, "unless you are taking meds for angina or stuff like that. They just make you feel like your whole body is totally relaxed and sensitive, almost like a whole-body orgasm. Here, this is what you do" and saying that I opened the bottle and took a deep whiff on each nostril, holding the other. I gave them to him and he did the same, and I immediately went back to sucking his cock. Under the influence of the poppers, his cock seemed to grow and harden in my mouth, and I felt an intense rush of pleasure giving him oral, aware of each little ridge and vein on his gorgeous cock.
Shortly after the poppers washed over me, he sighed a deep sigh and said "That's so fucking fantastic. My whole body feels like it is being caressed like my cock. Fuck, this is so hot, man."
"Just take a whiff whenever you want, man," I said, working whatever magic I could on his cock, speeding up slightly, varying the pressure, using my tongue and sometimes a little of my teeth.
He pulled me off and brought me up into a kiss again. "This is so fuckin' hot, I don't think I can last much longer" he said.
"Will you cum in my mouth?" I asked him
"Oh yeah" he said, and I went back down on him. I started slowly once again, and slowly sped up. He moaned and gasped as he built toward his climax, then took a couple more hits from the popper bottle, and I could feel his body tense up. I moved my free hand up to his mouth and he took two fingers into his mouth and sucked on them as his cock hardened even more, his balls pulled up and his warm semen started to flood my mouth. He was gasping for breath, pumping his hips into my mouth, moaning and sighing.
Finally, I stopped, licking off his still-hard cock, and swallowing his cum. I sat up, put my hand on his heaving chest and kissed him as he wound down from his sexual high. "Oh, fuck, that was the best head I've had since, well, I don't know when. Those poppers really turned it into an intense experience" he said.
We sat and made out for a while. I caressed his body and his cock, which now was super sensitive, but still hard. After a little while, he said "Now it's my turn to do you" and he bent over me, mimicking what I had done with him. I took the bottle of poppers and took a couple of big hits, feeling the pleasure roll over me, and the intense feeling of my cock in his warm mouth.
I was super horny by now, and it didn't take long to bring me almost to the edge. I pulled him into a kiss, and then he want back down again, this time going slow and making the experience incredibly intense. After another minute or two of this slow intensity, I took a couple more hits on the popper bottle, and as they exploded in my head, my cock exploded in his mouth. He lapped up every bit, and kept sucking until I was so super-sensitive that it almost hurt.
I drew him back up into a kiss and a short while later, we just sat back and held hands as we watched a hot four-some on the screen fucking.
"What's your name?" he said softly.
"John," I answered. "What's yours?"
"Randy" he said.
"How appropriate!" I said. "Do you live here?"
"No" he said, "in a small town upstate. I was down for a two-day sales seminar, and go home tomorrow. What about you?"
"I'm just up for the day from Philly" I said, "no particular rush to get home, though."
"I've got a hotel a few blocks from here" he said. "Wanna go there and have some fun?"
"You're on" I said, and we got up, buttoned up, got our jackets back on and headed out to his hotel.
As we walked, we talked more about our lives. I told him about my art, and he told me that he worked in sales for a small company in his hometown. That he liked the job and the town, but that it was not possible to have a gay life there, since everyone knew what everyone else was up to. It turned out that he had not had more than a fleeting encounter in the last year, and, though he said he was versatile, was hoping that I would fuck him. He hadn't been fucked since he graduated college a few years before. It sounded like a good deal to me!