This is a short story, anecdote, or memoir in a series about coming of age as a gay man in Salt Lake City during the 1960s ad 1970s. This is part of a series of my personal memories and experiences.
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SLC 02 - Rio Grand Hotel
Directly across the street on the north side of Pioneer Park stood a row of old hotels that had originally been built for train travelers. They were all from a much earlier era built to offer cheap rooms for over night stays or even shorter visits. The great age of train travel was long gone and now the hotels became places where single men with marginal incomes could rent a room by the week or month. Mostly old men accustomed to traveling from city to city in the west, living on small pensions or social security stipends kept the Rio Grande and similar hotels in business. A few of the rooms were occupied by art students who needed their own private studios to paint and conduct "art" business. The Rio Grande catered to a combination of these type of clients.
The Rio Grande Hotel was an immense wooden structure with three floors of rooms. In its heyday, it could accommodate 300 guests. By the1960s there were less than 100 permanent residents plus twenty or so artists occupying the second and third floor rooms. There were no private baths. All residents shared ten baths on the two upper floors. But they were clean. The management put great effort in keeping the hotel as clean as possible. However, instead of daily sheet and towel service, management only provided clean sheets and towels once a week.
It was on a subsequent visit to Pioneer Park that I had my first introduction to the Rio Grande and its residents. I was once again sitting against a nearby tree where I could keep an eye on the traffic going in and out of the old tea room along 300 West. It was a late August afternoon and the pickings were slim. I was half dozing in the shade when a male voice interrupted me.
"Howdy, stud. You having any luck?" It was the old cowboy from Elko I'd met a few weeks earlier. The same guy who had proved to be one horny and very hot cock sucker that had changed my mind about getting in on with old guys in their 70s. He was just as neatly dressed in pressed Levis and a crisp cowboy shirt as the first time we met. His boots reflected the sun shine, they were so bright. "Mind if I sit and keep you company for a bit."
I was actually rather pleased to see him. I'd thought a lot about our encounter with the three other men a few weeks before. In fact, it had become a recurring memory that recently occupied my mind when I jacked off at night.
"You on another day trip from Elko?" I asked as he sat down cross legged a few feet away.
"Yup. I've got a room for a few days across the street. I was getting so horny I couldn't stand it. Not much going on in Elko. There hasn't been much going on this morning in this park, either" he said. He grinned at me and teased, "You been getting your knob polished regularly?"
"Yes and no," I answered. "I'm too young to get into the gay bars and the only places where I can get a blowjob is here and a couple of other parks. But it's risky. Too many problems with vice cops trying to entrap people. I think those assholes need to let their guard down and let us suck them off. They certainly cruise guys as if they're enjoying it." I complained.
"Yeah, you gotta watch out and be careful" said the old guy winking at me.
We sat and exchanged small talk for at least a half hour. The park was dead. I decided I should go to Liberty or Sugarhouse Park to see if I had better luck. And that's when the old guy made his move.
"I'll make you an offer," he said. "I've got twenty silver dollars in my room. They're yours if you follow me back to the hotel and let me suck you off."
I was a bit shocked but also flattered. My cock was worth twenty bucks just to be sucked? That's work I could enjoy doing all day if it were possible. I hesitated.
"Let me think it over," I answered.
"What's there to think over? You're horny and you're looking for a good blow job. As you might remember, I did a pretty good job of taking care of that hot dick of yours."
It was with a good amount of trepidation that I finally agreed. I got up and followed him half a block to the Rio Grande. All the way I had butterflies and my legs were a bit shaky. He pushed open the revolving door to the lobby for me and I was struck with the clean smell of freshly mopped marble floors. And there was sort of a comfortable stale smell about the place that was not unpleasant. We walked past the desk clerk who didn't even lift up his eyes from whatever he was reading. We walked up one flight of majestic old worn carpeted stairs that creaked with every step.
As I followed him down a long hallway we passed some rooms with doors open. The old guy stopped at a few of them and said hello to the men he knew. Most all were in their underwear and reading or watching TV from the beds in their rooms. I looked past the old guy to see that in one of the rooms were two older men, naked, just hanging out drinking beer and smoking. And by hanging out I mean literally. These two old codgers were airing out their balls big time, totally unselfconscious about being buck naked. They were about the same age, in their 60s, and not in too bad of shape. At least they didn't have pot bellies and weren't completely bald.
"What are you guys up to?" ask my guide to the Rio Grande.
"Hell, it's too hot for clothes," one of them said. "It's a bitch on hot days like this without air conditioning" said the other. They grinned ear to ear and made it obvious they were interested in me by the way they stared and undressed me with their eyes. "Looks like you've captured your limit for the day," one of them said, indicating me.
We finally made it to the old guy's room. He was careful to lock the door behind us.
"Don't be alarmed. This is just to make sure we don't get any unwelcome company," he grinned. He sat down on the edge of a springy bed and pulled me close. "You just relax and I'll make sure you're not disappointed," he smiled.
In no time he had my pants and underwear down around my ankles and my cock in his mouth. He was truly a master cock sucker. I was hard in no time and over the next twenty minutes he had edged me to almost explode down his throat. But I didn't. He knew how to make a blow job last. Finally, he indicated he needed to take a breather. He pulled off my shirt and had me lay down on the bed while he removed my pants and shoes.
"You said something about $20" I asked rather bluntly with my hard dick sticking up in the air.
"Sure, not a problem. It's right there on top of the dresser." and he was telling the truth. Two stacks of shiny one dollar silver coins were on top of his dresser. "I've got to take a break and take a piss," he said. "You stay right here and relax." And with that he was gone across the hall to one of the shared bathrooms.
I thought about just taking the coins and making a break for it. But he had left me with a pair of major blue balls. In less that five minutes he was back in the room. He was naked and carried all of his clothes folded in one arm.
"I needed to get comfortable," he grinned. He returned to sucking my dick, making sure I didn't suddenly cum. He was going to keep me around as long as possible. He climbed up on the bed, laying down on his side putting my cock in his mouth. "Would you mind playing with my cock while I suck you off?" he asked.
I was so horned up I was beyond arguing. I reached over and started to fondle his cock and balls. I'd forgotten how big a piece of meat he had. He was uncut and grew to at least eight inches when semi soft. He adjusted his cock close to my face giving me an opportunity to check him out. He had lots of foreskin. More than I did. And to his credit, his dick didn't smell like foul cheese. He kept himself cleaner than I kept my own dick.
"Hey," he said while taking a breath. "You into docking?" he asked.
"I, I don't know what that is," I said.
"It's putting your hard dicks tip to tip, then taking turns pulling each other's foreskins over them. It's like jacking off with someone else's uncut dick. Want to try it?" he asked.
"Sure, why not," I answered. I'll admit that I was sort of curious about this. Once, when I was bout nine years old the kid who lived next door to us had taken my soft spent dick and pulled my foreskin over his little hardon, using my dick as a sleeve of skin to whack off into.
We rearranged our naked bodies on the squeaking bed so we could line up our dicks. As old as the guy was I was easily into a bit of cock worship, being able to play with such a big, hard and veiny hot piece of meat. Concentrating on his dick it was easy to forget he was in his 70s. He put the tips of our cocks together then slowly pulled his foreskin over my dick. I was amazed. It covered the entire length of my own eight inches. And it was warm. He began to slowly slide his clenched fist holding our dicks in place by jacking us off. He took his time. It didn't take long before we were both issuing a lot of precum. He slid the head of his dick to the side of mine and moved the head of our cocks around in our mixed juices, all while covered y his skin. The sensation was incredible.
"Damn, that feels great!" I said approvingly.
"You like that, do you?" he prompted. "You want me to keep it up?"
"Fuck, yeah," I said.
This cock play lasted only about five or six minutes when he pulled his foreskin completely down to the base of my dick. I felt a hot wet sensation engulf my tool as he held his foreskin in place.
"How was that?" he whispered.
"What was that? Did you just pee on me?" I asked a bit alarmed.
Keeping our dicks sleeved together he leaned up and slowly pulled his cock off of mine. Then he dove down and inhaled my hardon licking it clean. He kept one hand around his own, carefully pinching off the end of his beautiful uncut dick.
"Look," he said sitting up and presenting me with his junk. He let his foreskin loose for a second just long enough that a decent glob of cum spilled out on to his other hand. "Cum. Spooge. Your daddy's sperm," he said smiling. He put the glob of cum to his mouth, gently tasting it with his tongue. "You want a taste?" he asked matter of factly.
I was dizzy with a feeling of eroticism I'd never experienced before. He'd edged me for a good thirty minutes and wouldn't let me blow my load. The idea of accepting a taste of cum from this old guy just added to the piggy hotness he'd worked me into. I gladly opened my mouth and licked all of the cum off of his hand. He pushed my head down onto his dick, stuffing his bloated foreskin in my mouth and made sure I got all of it. I was flooded with a huge load of creamy man batter. And it tasted pretty good. Almost instantly we were lip locked mouth to mouth as he forced me to share his load of cum. We swapped it back and forth for at least a minute until we both had to swallow. His spooge was remarkable. It tasted clean and slightly sweet with a hint of alkali as a back note. I loved it, more than I would have ever thought I would have loved it. We fell back on the squeaky bed and rested.
"Let me have a bit of a break and I'll finish you off," he said.
With all the endorphins filling my head I was more than happy to take a short rest. We napped for about a half hour when there was a light tap at his door.
"Mike? You in there?" asked a strange voice.
"What do you want?" yelled the old man in my arms.
"We're just checking to see if you're alive," said another strange voice
"Go away. I'm busy," yelled Mike.
"Hey, we just bought a bottle of whiskey and thought you might be thirsty," said the first voice.
Mike moved my arms away from him, put on a robe and went to the door. "What part of I'm busy don't you guys understand?" he scolded. He had opened the door just enough so that he could whisper to the men on the other side. There was some mumbling, some loud whispering, and then Mike turned to me and said, "Get under the sheets and cover up."
He opened the door some more and let the two naked guys in I'd seen previously. They were both wearing robes and brandishing a large bottle of brown liquor and some glasses. I didn't say anything and stayed under the bed covers as Mike had instructed.
The two men were truckers. In the next few minutes as glasses of whiskey were passed around I learned that Mike had hitched a ride from Elko into Salt Lake with them. They were sort of old friends and depended on one another for lots of mutual sex when no one else was available. Upon closer inspection the two men were not as ancient as they first appeared. They were in their mid sixties, but they both had thick graying hair and reasonable builds for older men. They were both dangerously close to losing any definition in their stomachs, but they had strong arms and trim waists. They also both had shit-eating grins on their faces. Their names were George and Harold.
One drink turned into two. Then two turned into three until they all lost count. Mike's annoyance at them for breaking into our private session seemed to fade after three drinks. They offered me a drink . . . about half a glass . . . which I found difficult to get down. But eventually my glass was empty. Whatever worries I had when the two men barged in uninvited were soon forgotten as I felt the whiskey cause waves of warm pleasure rush over me.
Of course they were all over the idea of checking me out. But they seemed to respect that I was Mike's trick for the afternoon. They were more excited about sharing their own news.
"You know that painter who has a studio at the back of the third floor?" George asked Mike.
"The big muscle guy with curly hair? What about him?" asked Mike.
"Well, Harold was across the hall taking a shit earlier today when he showed up in the bathroom wagging his dick in front of the hole in the partition between the toilet and urinal," said George.
"You don't say?" Mike responded with more than just a little interest. "The guy who's always got paint stains on his pants and arms? You sure about that?" asked Mike.
"Sure as shit," blurted Harold. "He just showed up at the right time, too. We were about to go slumming along 2nd South looking for some strange when he fell into our lap."
"And he ain't no kid, neither," said George glancing at me. "He's more like in his late 30s or early 40s and built like a brick shit house," Harold added.
"BIG dick," added George.
"Definitely a BIG DICK," agreed Harold.
"BIG," repeated George now feeling no pain. "Harold worked fast and wrangled him into our room so we could take care of him."
"And did he ever take care of us," laughed Harold.
For the next twenty or so minutes they regaled us about they convinced this muscled god into their room where they spent the morning fucking and sucking one another until their balls were shriveled and dry. Harold admitted the throbbing ache of taking the painter's dick up his ass was just now just beginning to let up. And they both plowed the guy relentlessly helping him scratch a serious daddy complex he hadn't been able to itch. Harold and George were quite proud of themselves.
As I listened to them gossip about their sexual escapades I got a little tingle in my groin. I played with myself under the covers trying not to attract attention. After an hour and most of the whiskey gone so were the men's inhibitions. Their robes were open with their junk hanging out. The usual male rituals of scratching balls and adjusting dicks accompanied their discussion when George turned to me and asked, "What do you think about our Mike here? Ya like that damn fine piece of meat between his legs?:
I stammered and didn't know how to respond. Finally I spit out, "Well, I guess so." I definitely did think so, but I wasn't interested in admitting it to these old farts . . . even though I did find them a bit sexy.
"Ah, leave the kid alone, would ya," said Mike. He didn't sign on for anything like you two interrupting us."
"Interrupting?" asked Harold. "You mean you guys weren't finished when we showed up? You have unfinished business maybe we can help you take care of?" he pressed with a big grin on his face. Harold stood up and dropped his robe in the chair behind him. Then he got on his knees in front of Mike opening Mike's robe and going for the gold. "Hell, we can't let you go unattended Mike. Not with that big tool of yours. That'd be a waste."
Mike didn't bother to fend off Harold from going down on him in front of all of us. All Mike did was turn his head and give me a sheepish look that expressed, "What can I do? They've got me."
The room got awkwardly silent. The only sound was the slurping from Harold's mouth on Mike's dick and it was loud enough it couldn't be ignored. "Look at that. Now isn't that a beauty," exclaimed Harold leaning back showing off Mike's rock hard eight inches. It looked like a lot more than eight inches to me, but we eventually measured it and that's what it was, exactly. George took over from Harold and spent a decent amount of time keeping Mike hard.
"Hey, kid. You want to show us what you've got?" Insisted both men. "C'mon. Don't be shy. We're all friends here." George and Harold pulled at the bed covers when they noticed I was hesitant. But they prevailed.
Mike took some responsibility to sort of protect me by asking me to sit on the bed next to him so he could have exclusive access to my cock while his buddies played with him. But when they pulled away the sheets exposing me the two men were very pleased. I huddled next to Mike who'd dropped his robe on the bed, and let him have access to my junk. But soon all four of us were naked on the floor trying out different combinations of a daisy chain. Harold and George weren't as big as Mike. But they had sturdy and thick seven inches of meat. Harold was circumcised which was the only way I could remember which trucker was which.
I traded places with George so I could go down on Mike. Looking up I could tell he was somewhat disappointed in me. I think he felt I'd been too willing to fall into a meat pile with his friends. I tried to make it up to him by working hard to worship his cock with my mouth and hands. At one point he whispered down to me, "I thought I owed you a happy ending. I've already shot once this afternoon."
I did want to cum, but the idea of a meat pile seemed logical at the moment. As I sucked him Mike reached for my unoccupied hand and rubbed it up against his butt. Working it, he eventually had my thumb up his ass while I went down his meat.
"Ah, yeah. That's more like it," he moaned. I remembered that during our first encounter he had made me fuck him, something I would not normally think of doing with an older guy. But it seemed like a good idea I should work on doing again. I got up and grabbed Mike by one arm, helping him to sit up. I rubbed a big gob of spit into the crack of his ass while he was on his knees. Harold got under Mike, continuing to suck Mike's hard cock while I massaged Mike's ass. I was gentle. With another gob of spit I got my thumb planted up inside him and slowly worked in in a circle. He fell forward over onto Harold and they sixty-nined while Mike adjusted to being on all fours. A couple more handfuls of slobbery spit and I had the head of my cock an inch or two inside his asshole. Mike moaned and wiggled his butt. More spit into his crack and soon I was firmly planted deep inside of him. George watched in amazement. I ever so slowly began to withdraw and then slowly plunged back into Mike's senior citizen asshole. It was hot and a little tight, but he soon loosened up. Sticking my cock up the old man's butt was great. It felt like it had found a home. Moans started to rise from Mike as he continued to work on Harold's meat.
I was working up an incredible need to bust a nut pumping into the old man's ass as the action generated plenty of lube from natural ass juices. Without any warning Mike started to shake and then . . . bam! He shot his wad down Harold's throat, ending with a series of convulsive heaves. This sort of left me high and dry. I pulled out of Mike and sat back on my haunches with my dick waving between my legs. George saw this as an opportunity to clean off my dick. He thought I'd cum up Mike's ass, but I hadn't. But it was a good idea to have someone clean off my dick for me. I eventually pushed George away and sat up on the squeaky bed.
Mike rolled over on one side pulling his dick out of Harold's mouth. Harold was reluctant to let Mike's go, but satisfied him self by smacking his lips and wiping up any gobs of cum and that escaped his eager mouth.
I rubbed a foot against Mike's back and asked, "Hey, you OK down there?" He just moaned softly with his eyes closed and a slight smile on his face. Our little meat pile had started to lull. I was still hard as a rock and in need of some serious release.
"Anyone else want to get fucked?" I blurted. George and Harold both looked at each other and grinned. Soon they had me pinned on the bed, Harold being the first to straddle my cock and slide it up his ass. Harold fucked himself using my dick, not the other way around. He planted himself cowboy style so firmly on my cock that the pressure was enough to break my dick in half. I had to hold him up by his butt to control his enthusiasm. I couldn't believe it. This sixty-something-year-old man had staying power. He clenched his innards around my dick like nothing I'd ever felt before and in no time he was shooting spasmodic load after load of cum all over my face and chest. He was a rough bottom and almost too hard for my eighteen years to handle. I scooped up some of his cum off of my chest and tasted it. It wasn't as good as Mike's, but it was worth scooping up more. As soon as I got a handful of it in my mouth Harold was sucking face with me as we snowballed his load.
George, who sat on the bed next to us scooped up as much of Harold's cum as he could. He pushed Harold off of me and slicked up my cock with what was left of the slippery load. The cum was the perfect lube for helping me ease my cock up George's warm, wet hole. George had a harder time of taking my whole cock at once. He had to inch it in bit by bit. But once I was inside him he rode me like a pro. He knew exactly how to flex his ass so I got the maximum pleasure possible. Or maybe it was the opposite. He knew how to flex his ass so he got the maximum pleasure out of riding my cock. Regardless, he took it long and slow until I lost control. I'd needed to bust a nut since early that morning and when I let loose George felt every drop of it coat the inside of his ass. And when he felt me explode he allowed himself to shoot. I could feel the incredible contractions of his inner sphincter muscle squeeze around my hard dick. It was a pretty good feeling. And of course, Harold was right there to lick up as much cum as possible and share it with his buddy.
The two truckers searched the floor for the whiskey bottle and passed what was left around for a last swill. They made some futile attempts to encourage the start of another meat pile which primarily involved them taking turns sucking my dick hoping they could get a rise out of me. They couldn't. The glow of my blue balls was gone. Mike was snoring on the floor next to the bed. They rolled him on his back and both mashed their mouths around his hefty tool. He seemed to get semi hard, but they couldn't get it to stand up. As they took turns swapping his dick between their mouths he began to snore lightly. Eventually they gave up, put on their bath robes and let themselves out. Harold stopped at the door to take a moment and smack his lips at me.
"See ya later, kid," he grinned shutting the door behind them.
Mike woke up the minute they were gone and crawled into bed with me. He made me spoon with him for a few minutes until I insisted I had to leave.
"Sure thing. We've all got lots of things to do," he said helping me gather my clothes together and enjoyed watching me dress. Before I put my cock away he reached out and grabbed it, insisting that he have one last taste by sucking on it. Nothing. I was spent. But I thanked him for a good time and awkwardly suggested that we should hook up again sometime.
"You ever go to Wasatch Springs?" he asked.
"No. What's that?" I responded.
"It's an old hot springs and public baths eight blocks up the street on 3rd West. Only guys looking for blow jobs go there. You might like it. The hot springs are good, too" he grinned at me. He wrote down the address on the inside of a matchbook and 1:00 pm, Thursday. "If you're not busy you should come by," he smiled. He made sure I took the twenty silver dollars, pressing them firmly in my hand.
"Thanks for making an old man happy," he said opening his hotel room door.