The following is a work of fiction. It is not intended to be read by anyone not legally entitled to do so nor by anyone offended by common gendered sexual activity. Comments and constructive criticism to: Woodrow_h@hotmail.com.
II
Allan
Saturday morning I had a 7:00 AM tee time with Pat Gleason, captain of the North Avenue district police, his wife Ginny, and Monica. We play Columbus Park twice to get in 18 holes. All of us are still struggling with that magic 100 score, but we're respectable and enjoy each other's company. Affronting our machismo, both women can out drive us and finesse us on any green, so it turns out to be the boys lagging the girls on every hole. For once I was glad of this as I wanted a little of Pat's brain this morning. "You know a guy by the name of Alan Lipshitz?" I asked as he was teeing up the third hole. "Sleazy son of a bitch! Of course I know who he is. Why?" "Do you know anything about his 'personal habits'? I'm asking for professional reasons." "I assume he's a raging queer. He runs a bordello for male sluts, but I don't know. I don't want to know about that kind of shit. I leave it to the vice boys." I thought about his answer until the 5th hole. Pat was an Irish Catholic, born and raised in Chicago. People like that are notoriously straight laced, not unlike the Italian Dons that they pursued. I grinned as I thought about the way they thought of things; 'the good, the bad, and the ugly." "Would it surprise you to know that he's married?" Pat's eyebrows arched. "Yeah," he said, "it would. The vice boys tell me that they have to wear galoshes and rubber gloves when they raid that theatre of his, the sissies run their loads everywhere. How could a straight guy run an operation like that?" "Actually, his wife is a rather attractive woman. A client gave me her picture." "Well, maybe he is just in it for the money, but even so, what a sleaseball." "Your original thought may be closer to the truth. He's been neglecting the little woman of late. Only question is for what." Pat drove his ball a good 150 yards, almost halfway to the green where the women had already putted out. I teed mine up and prepared to drive. "So this looker hired you to find out if her hubby was squiring the sissies?" I bit my lip, tempted to tell him about the case, but figuring he'd think the less of me for even agreeing to take it on. Pat was a good friend and a valuable source of information, but he was a typical cop; a gossip and a very judgemental one at that. Best to just pull the "client privelege" gambit and let it drop. Both the ladies shot less than 110, and Pat and I stopped counting after 130. We had a few drinks at a watering hole on Madison street then the Gleasons went home to do some gardening while Monica had some briefs to polish off. This left me with an afternoon to myself and I resolved to find out a little more about Mr. Lipschitz and hopefully, Mr. Morris Stein. A leisurely drive brought me to a parking spot close to the Bijou theater about 3:00 PM. Set in between a few yuppie bars and antique shops, the building wasn't much. No marquee, just a storefront with a ticket booth and a sign telling the public the feature film had an "all male cast." $12.50 was the bargain price I wrote down on Mrs. Stein's expense report. I thought that was a pretty high price to watch a bunch of sissies getting it on, but she was paying and I was working. The ticket clerk was a thin, very bored looking black girl. We didn't even make eye contact as she pushed my change out under the glass partition. The lobby was empty. I noticed the door to the men's room and stepped in to take a leak. A tall stringy looking kid was at the adjacent urinal. He was not taking a piss, but was massaging a very long, hard cock. No sooner had I begun pissing, than he reached over and grabbed my cock! It has been a long time since another man has touched me, and I was amazed at the boldness of the move, but then, figure a guy in a gay oriented theater with his dick out is probably looking to have it handled, so why should I be shocked? I moved his hand away and he turned his attention to the guy who had just stepped up to the urinal on the other side of him. Apparently this "direct" approach of his meets a lot of rejection, but it sure doesn't waste much time. I entered the dark theater with one eye closed to faster adjust to the darkness. On the screen a couple of young guys were sucking each other. With my adjusted eye I scanned the audience. There appeared to be about twenty patrons sprinkled around; no two together. That surprised me a bit. I had figured there would be world class orgies going on given the venue, but was to later learn why not. I took a seat in the 8th row right on the aisle. There was another guy about 6 seats away who had his pants at his ankles and was fondling his cock as he watched the action on the screen which now included a third participant. My first and only male sex experience came back to me in a rush. My partner and I had been assigned to monitor Russian military radio communications from a remote site in the Aleutian islands. The two of us had been alone for over four months, our only contact with the outside world being the helicopter flyover supply drops. There was absolutely nothing to do in off duty hours but read, watch videos, and drink. The outfit was liberal with the booze supply, but Mark and I were always ready for more when the supply drop came. One evening after a few too many pops I had banged my knee on a table leg and howled in pain. Mark looked up at me from the radio console and asked what had happened. I told him and he offered to get some snow and rub it for me. I agreed. He told me to take off my trousers so they wouldn't get wet from the melting snow. I sat on the chair in my shirt and boxer shorts. Mark reentered the cabin with a bowl of snow. He took a handful and, kneeling in front of me, began massaging my knee. The icy snow took away the pain, and prevented swelling of the knee, but strangely, the feel of Mark's hands on me caused another swelling, and I noted with horror that the end of my dick was poking out the edge of my boxers! Mark couldn't have helped noticing, but he kept massaging, even gradually extending the range of rubbing down my calf and up my thigh, with each upward stroke coming ever closer to the now straining member. My first impulse was to ask him to stop, but the feeling was so delicious, and I hadn't felt a woman's touch in so long that my drunkeness made me hope that he would go further. Indeed he did go further, and his fingertips sent a jolt through me as they ever so tentatively brushed the purple head of my cock. When I did not object, he became bolder, and finally gripped the length of my shaft under the leg of my boxers. I was shocked at my willingness to have him masturbate me, but allowed him to slip the boxers over my knees, leaving me completely naked from the waist down. All thought of massaging my injured knee was gone from both our minds. Mark held my straining shaft firmly in his hand and sent another thrill through me by kissing the head of it. As he pressed his lips to it a second time I involuntarily thrust my hips forward and he opened his mouth to let it slide in! He began sucking me, rather inexpertly at first, his teeth scraped me several times before he got it right, but gradually he learned to take it all the way into his throat so his nose was buried in my pubic hair. It felt strange but delicious to see Mark's head bobbing in my lap. I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach. "I'm going to cum," I shuddered making as if to push his head away to avoid the spurt. His response was to redouble his attentions as I felt the pulse of semen with my cock wedged firmly between his lips. He let go as the second shot blasted onto his cheek. The third caught him square on the nose and ran down it like a gob of white snot. The two of us fell to giggling at what had just happened, but in my drunken condition I staggered over to my bed and collapsed. We did not discuss the incident the next day and after a month we were both reassigned. All was forgotten until today. The memory of it was not unpleasant, and I began to wonder what it might be like to get a blow job from the fellow down the row, assuming he was willing. As I looked over at him, he was really spanking his monkey for fair. He looked over at me grinning sheepishly but made no effort to hide what he was doing. He stared pointedly at my crotch and arched his eyebrows. Obliging him, I unzipped and pulled out my now hard cock. I gave it a few strokes and looked over at him again. He patted the seat beside him, inviting me to move there. I hesitated a moment, but some compulsion forced me. I stuffed my dick back into my pants and moved over. As soon as I was seated, his hand was in my fly, pulling my rock hard cock back out. He then pulled my hand to his lap and for the first time I felt another man's dick in my fist. It was strange but exciting. Slowly we stroked each other ignoring the screen and concentrating our gaze on each other's meat. After a few minutes of this, he surprised me by taking my hand away from his cock and pulling up his pants. "Follow me," he said hoarsely. I dutifully stuffed myself back into my pants and edged my way out of the row to the aisle behind him. To my surprise, he walked toward the screen. We made for a doorway beside the stage and entered a large hall with a spiral staircase. We ascended to the second floor which was semi darkened. From the top of the stairs we proceeded down a narrow corridor to a large room which had a hut built into the center of it. This hut consisted of many adjacent doors which I later learned were stalls with large "glory holes" cut into the walls. There were more patrons in this room than in the theater proper. The walls of the large room were also lined with stalls just large enough to accomodate two men. It was to one of these my companion led me. Once inside, he proceeded to remove all of his clothing and then began assisting me in the same endeavor. When we were both buck naked, he pulled me close to him and kissed me deeply on the mouth, grabbing both of our hard cocks in his fist, side by side. With his tongue halfway down my throat I couldn't have protested had I wanted to, but the excitement of this tabu scene overwhelmed me, and I let him have his way with me. Finally breaking the breathtaking embrace, he seated himself on a bench and pulled my cock to his lips. None of the amateurish fumblings of Mark from this gent. He knew exactly what he was doing and soon had me panting with lust. He was loud as he slurped on me, and a fetid odor of sex permeated the stall. I felt a knotting in my stomach, my body stiffened and as I shot my load into his mouth my knees buckled and I might have fallen had he not supported me. He stood and made room for me on the bench, likely thinking I was going to reciprocate the favor, and looked a little hurt as I began hurriedly dressing. He remained in the stall as I opened the door and stepped out. I roamed around the entire second level, discovering the glory hole rooms and having several penises thrust at me through the holes. I came upon a totally naked man chained to a post. He smiled at me and beckoned me to come closer. I wandered away and entered yet another room at the end of the building. This room contained a wall mounted monitor on which another gay film was playing. At the opposite end of the room was a double bunk bed on which I saw another naked man being buggered while he was sucking the cock of a third. This all seemed so surreal to me and I was surprised at myself again as I felt my freshly blown cock hardening again in my pants. In the center of this room were rows of stalls, the walls of which were only about 4 feet high. These also contained glory holes, but differed from the others I'd seen in that the suckee's head and torso were visible to anyone in the room. I was in the middle of a veritable cocksuckers' paradise! There must have been 30 blow jobs going on all around me. I felt I should have been disgusted at all this unbridled debauchery, but I was so caught up in the spirit of lust that I stepped into a stall and poked my cock through the hole in the side. It was gobbled up immediately and used as expertly as it had been by my first partner. I wondered what brought a man to take the penis of a total stranger in his mouth through a hole in a wall. I doubted it was taste, for I had tasted my own semen after masturbating once and found it nothing special. And then there was the fellow 10 feet away from me having a thick penis shoved up his rectum! What was the motivation to allow that? Hell, I hated having my temperature taken with a thin rectal fever thermometer as a kid, and that cock looked like it took up as much space as a dozen of them inserted at once. The guy working on me through the hole was getting me pretty close. On a sudden whim I pulled back out of his mouth. He stood up facing me and a moment later his thick stiff cock poked through the hole I'd just vacated. Curious, I sat down and contemplated it. It had a slight upward curve to it, enough to reveal the underside of the head which reminded me of an eagle's wings curving away from the blunt tip and elongated piss slit. I took it in my hand and felt the bumpy veined surface of the shaft. A bead of seminal fluid formed at the slit. Not knowing what came over me, I leaned forward and licked the bulbed head, tasting the precum as I did. It was not nearly as sour as my own, so I took the head of it into my mouth. My lips closed around the ridge at the base of the head, and my tongue played at the slit. My man trembled slightly, betraying the effect on him. Careful to not scrape him with my teeth, I took more and more of the length of it until it touched the back of my throat and I gagged involuntarily. A fit of coughing ensued and I could swear I heard laughing around the room probably at the amateur giving his first blow job. I flushed beet red, but gentle hands covered my head, and a soft voice urged me to take it easy and get comfortable. I'd been ready to quit, but the gentleness of the voice soothed me and I tried again. I moved on him until my nose touched the hair on his abdomen, finding that by allowing the head into my throat would let me enjoy the entire length of his cock. I can't say why, but I was enjoying the experience, and was consumed by a desire to make this man come. I continued sucking him for several minutes when, to my disappointment, he pulled back. I stood up and he motioned for me to stick my cock back into the hole whereupon he again brought me to the brink. We alernated this way for at least 10 minutes until I could hold back no longer and telling him what was coming, streamed my load into his mouth. As soon as I was dry, he stood and I greedily tasted the first semen of my life. He moaned and shouted with the ecstasy of his moment, and I could hear cheers around the room. Apparently I had given my first blow job in front of an audience! His wad was thick and copious. I could not swallow fast enough to get it all, and it leaked out the corners of my mouth and out my nostrils. Those gentle hands pulled me to my feet and soft lips touched mine. The stranger mingled our sperm in our mouths with an open mouthed kiss. I responded, tonguing the thick wads into a foamy soup. Suddenly a wave of shame came over me. Here I was, in the employ of a beautiful woman, making $100 per hour plus expenses, spending my time engaged in acts of total depravity. Was I really investigating? I'd seen no sign of either Stein or Lipshitz, knew no more about them than when I'd entered the place. All I had learned was that I enjoyed getting blow jobs from other men and how to give one in return. Somehow I doubted Vicky would be thrilled with that intelligence. My most recent sex partner had drifted off, nameless and forgotten. We might pass each other any time later in the street and not recognize one another. The moment was over and any hint of relationship with it. The casualness of these meetings was fascinating. No introductions, no getting to know you, nothing more than "wham bam thank you man." I looked over at the bunk beds. The fellow who had been being cornholed was now alone. He looked at me then turned his backside to me, indicating with his finger his stretched hole. It was oozing cum from his last lover, but apparently he had not had enough. I thought briefly about obliging him just to find out what it was like, but realised I wasn't getting another hard on any time soon, having cum twice inside the space of an hour. I could see that he was rock hard, and on a whim went over to him and took his cock in my hand. He smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me to my knees. His cock was thick and short, perhaps 4 or 5 inches at most. His abdomen and thighs were matted with coarse black hair which reminded me strangely of Vicky's copious bush. I had noted the Semetic features of the man and now wondered if hirsuteness was a characteristic of Jewish people. Then I recalled my time in the middle east and the women who never cut their hair anywhere on their bodies. That had been quite a fetish for me then and now I was discovering it had the same effect even when a penis was jutting out from the bush. I was getting into quite a lather working on this boner when another man, fully clothed, appeared at my subject's side. He was quite businesslike and looked vaguely familiar. He whispered something in my man's ear which caused the latter to pull his cock out of my mouth and walk quickly from the room. Disappointed at the truncation of my education in self-taught cocksucking, I stood up and looked about for another subject. A man standing close by told me that I shouldn't feel badly. The man I'd been sucking was the owner of the place and was often called away in mid-tryst to attend to some pressing business matter. Wow! I knew more about Mr. Lipshitz than most! I knew what his cock tasted like! I'm sure Vicky would swoon if she read that in my report. Though come to think of it, she might know first hand as well from their swinging sessions. I then thought of the attractive woman in the tennis outfit. She was sitting at home like the dutiful wife while her hubby was fucking any and all the patrons of his business. I wondered if she had any inkling that her husband was the ultimate men's room queen. Then it struck me who the other man who had broken up our session was. He was none other than the gent who had followed us last evening! Why would Alan Lipshitz have his lawyer's wife followed? I was sure now that I was not the subject of their surveilance, the man gave no hint of having recognised me, though to be sure a man on his knees with a mouthful of cock is quite different looking from a man standing at a urinal with his own in his hand. As I made my way back to the staircase, several men approached me, in no uncertain terms offering sexual favor, but by this time I had regained control of myself and was all business. I returned to the outer lobby, ignoring the film on the screen. I had noticed an office when I'd come into the theater at first. It was right next to the men's room but had a frosted window labeled "Private". How appropriate, I thought, Lipshitz could conduct all his business in those two rooms. I went into the men's room. The same guy was still standing at the center urinal, and still hard! It had been more than an hour since I last saw him. Either he'd been phenomenally unlucky or gifted with tremendous stamina. Besides the entry door, there was another which would open into the office. It was an old fashioned type with a slotted keyhole. If necessary it could accomodate a small bug. I was tempted to approch the guy at the urinal to see if he kept his hard on after I blew him, but another guy entered the room and got his cock grabbed as soon as he was beside him. The sudden approach was apparently fine with him and the two were fondling each other as I left. I exited the theater and walked to my car. From my parking spot I had a clear view of the front of the building and could see anyone entering or leaving. I slapped the latest Stephen King book-on-tape into the cassette player and settled back for a long wait.