In the early 1990s I discovered the ads in the Village Voice, and other publications for telephone party lines, including many gay and some bisexual lines. I began calling those 550 phone numbers, and found them to be an excellent way to meet the kind of guys that I like, men who live very straight lifestyles, but who also have urges and desires to have discreet sexual encounters with other men.
My specific preference is younger guys (late teens to early twenties), who want to receive blow jobs from an older gay man. I was in my early forties, living in Brooklyn, and I loved meeting very macho, young (mostly Italian and Irish) boys who needed a cocksucker to drain their dicks. I will tell you about a few of the more memorable experiences that I had servicing these guys.
As I started calling the sex phone lines, I discovered that the best times to meet the kind of "straight" macho boys that I craved was usually very late at night, or early in the morning on weekends. I would awaken at 3 or 4 AM, and get on the line to find guys who had been out drinking or getting high with their buddies, and had gone home horny, having not scored any "pussy" that night, and were checking out the line to find a guy to service their cum filled cocks. I was ready to provide that service.
One of the first young studs that I met this way called himself Mike. In the early days of the phone lines, there were just open chat rooms with up to ten or twelve people trying to talk at the same time. If two people wanted to hook up, you could ask the moderator to put you on a private line together, where you could talk more intimately and give out your phone number to the other guy. I kept hear this younger sounding guy, with a heavy "Brooklyn" accent saying "Anyone in Brooklyn?", over and over again. Other guys would call out to him, and I was unable to get his attention the first few times that I heard him on the party line. After several weeks of hearing him at two to three AM on Saturday and Sunday mornings, I was finally able to get his attention. I told him that I was in Brooklyn and I was into sucking dick. We went private and described ourselves and our desires to each other, and I gave him my phone number.
He called me right back. Mike said that he was twenty years old, Italian, and straight. He said that he had always wanted a blow job from a man. He told me to meet him in the parking lot of a diner off Cropsey Avenue in his neighborhood. I described my car, and he told me that he was wearing blue jeans, sneakers and a white pull over sweatshirt. We agreed to meet in twenty minutes, at 3:00 AM. I very nervously got out of bed, brushed my teeth, got dressed and hurried to my car to go meet this hot sounding Italian boy. I did not know what to expect, and had fears that I might not like his looks, or that he might reject me when he saw me. I arrived a few minutes early, and waited in my car. About ten minutes later, a young guy fitting his description and wearing the described outfit approached the drivers side of my car. I was a bit disappointed, as he was not the totally hot Italian boy that I pictured, but he was a very straight looking, typical young Italian guy. I smiled and said hi.
Mike was about five feet, eight inches tall, and probably weighed about 160 pounds. He didn't have a gym body, or a classically handsome face, but was well built, with a nice shape to his body despite the slight beginnings of a beer belly. He was very rugged looking, with brown curly hair, a nose that appeared to have been broken in his younger days and an unshaven face. We looked each other over, and he asked me to come back to his house. I agreed. He walked around to the passenger side of my car, and I unlocked the door for him. We were both nervous, and did not say much during the brief ride. He gave me directions to his house. He lived with his family, but told me that they were away for the weekend and we would have the house to ourselves. I parked the car, and we walked up the front steps to his house. He opened the door and lead me into the living room. I saw a bag of white powder on the table, and he told me that he had been doing cocaine when he called the line. He told me that it gave him the courage to call and to try new things. He sat down at the coffee table and did a couple of lines. He invited me to join him, but I declined.
After a couple of minutes, he looked up at me, spread his legs slightly and started rubbing the crotch of his jeans. He asked me if I wanted to suck his dick. I said yes. He stretched back on the couch and beckoned me over with his finger. I approached him and kneeled down on the carpet in front of him. I unfastened his jeans, while he sat back with his hands behind his head. I started with his thick black belt, unhooked the snap on his jeans, lowered his zipper and he raised his body, so I could peel his pants off. His white jockey shorts came partially off and I finished removing them so his cock and balls were fully exposed. His cock was soft and nestled in a thick hairy crotch. He had large balls and I immediately went down on his cock and he let out a sigh. His dick started to harden in my mouth, and I reached out with my hand to fondle his hairy balls.
He got into it, as I slurped up and down on his now hardening six inch cock for about ten minutes. It wasn't the largest or hardest cock that I had ever sucked, but I was thrilled to be on my knees, with my lips wrapped around this "straight" boy's cock, right in his families living room. He then told me to stop, while he did a couple more lines of coke. As I started to resume my blow job, he told me to stop and that it was now my turn. I did not expect or even want him to go down on me, but he insisted. He pointed to a love seat in his living room, and I sat down. He crawled over to me and told me to take my dick out. I undid my pants and he started sucking me. He was not very good at it, and he stopped after a few minutes. I went back to sucking him. I kept sucking for another fifteen minutes, when he pulled off my mouth and said that it was enough. He was not able to cum. I assume it was the coke. He pulled up his jeans, thanked me and escorted me to the door. It was not the most satisfying blow job that I ever gave, but it was a hot experience, getting to "do" a straight Italian boy right in his Mom's living room. It provided for a lot of jerk-off material for the future.
My next experience was not with a Brooklyn boy, but turned out to be much hotter. Brad was a twenty-three year old, East Village "punk" that I met in a similar way, on the party line, at a similar time, (early on a Sunday morning). I drove across the Manhattan Bridge, and went up to his small apartment building on the lower east side of Manhattan. I rang his apartment and he buzzed me in. Again, I was very nervous, not knowing what to expect, as I walked up to his third floor apartment. I knocked, and the door soon opened. I was excited to see a very hot looking young man, wearing sweatpants and no shirt. He had tattoos and two or three body piercing's, One stud pierced on his lip, another ring on one nipple, and also one in his navel. His hair was long on one side, and dyed partially green. But his body was excellent. Smooth solid upper chest and arms, a classically handsome face, (despite his attempts to alter it with hardware), and tattoos on his muscular biceps and on his lower belly, going into his white sweat pants. Overall a very sexy picture.
I also noticed a very healthy bulge in his sweatpants, showing a nice thick cock pointing down. I looked at him and licked my lips. He grinned at me and told me how horny he was. He had been out at the clubs with friends, but wound up going home alone. He went on to say that he was Bisexual, and he loved to have his cock sucked by either women or men. I was more than happy to oblige him. I got down on my knees in front of him, as he pulled my head right into the front of his sweatpants. I could smell the funky odor of his young crotch, and his dick began to harden with my face held down on his thickening, pulsating young cock. After a few minutes, he pulled back from my face, and lowered his sweats, and then stepped out of them, leaving himself completely naked, standing in front of me. He said one word. "Suck."
I obliged his command, and I gave this boy head like I've never given before. Brad's cock was a thick cut seven inches. He pulled my head down on him and forced his prick down my throat. After he started fucking my throat I began to gag on his big dick. He let up and I used my left hand to masturbate him, using the wet saliva dripping out of my mouth to slick the shaft, while I took his hard "punk cock" as deep into my throat as possible, without gagging. Brad really got into the blow job, and started muttering under his breath, things like, "cocksucker" and "suck it, you bitch." I really went crazy on that cock, and was really turned on by his cool attitude, when he muttered. "Suck me, you faggot." It was a very low command, as if it was not said directly to me; but that kind of talk really turns me on. I reached my hands up to feel his body. I caressed his smooth chest, and I got into his body with great passion. I felt his hard young corrugated stomach and gently tugged on his navel and nipple rings. That got Brad's motor running even faster. He pulled me deeper on his cock, and cried out, "SUCK MY DICK, FAGGOT, EAT ME! I'M GONNA CUM IN YOUR MOUTH! EAT ME YOU BITCH, SWALLOW MY SPERM!" His body started to shake and he was moaning. I began gagging, but he kept thrusting and I could feel his cum shoot into my mouth and down my throat. It was wonderful.
I remained on my knees, tasting all of his thick juicy young cum running down my lips, and I licked up as much as I could. He finally reached for his sweatpants, pulled them back on and sat in a chair. He smiled at me and said, "That was great." I told him that the pleasure was all mine. I asked to use his bathroom to clean up my face a bit. When I left the john, he was ready for me to leave, and showed me to the door. I asked him to save my phone number and call me again. He said that he would, but unfortunately I never heard from him again. But I kept calling the party line and found more cock available to me.
One hot summer afternoon, I turned up the air conditioner, lit up a fine old joint, grasped my dick through my shorts and called the "Brooklyn-Queens One-on-one Line." Individual guys would connect with one another in a one on one chat. It was a fun activity to talk, fantasize, jerk off, and who knows? Maybe even meet someone. I am turned on by the heavy Brooklyn accent that a typical young New York guy has. I was connected with a guy who sounded like a young construction worker. His name was Keith, and it turned out that he worked for the phone company.
Keith revealed to me, that he was currently on a job, and had tapped his headset into the line of someone in the neighborhood, so he could talk on the line, while someone else would have to pay for the call. Keith was about five miles from my apartment in Park Slope. He said that he was twenty-four, had an average build, and was into having older guys suck his cock. He told me that he loved blow jobs. I never asked if he was straight, because it seemed so obvious to me that he was. He told me what street that he was on, and he wanted me to meet him and suck him off in the back of his telephone company van. In my stoned state, my dick got rock hard in my shorts, and I could not resist going to meet with this hot straight telephone repairman.
I drove to the location, in Bensonhurst, a very typical Brooklyn Italian neighborhood. The streets were pretty much deserted on that very hot August afternoon. I turned the corner, where I had agreed to meet Keith. No, Keith. No telephone van. I waited in my car. After a half hour, I gave up. Unfortunately, no shows are a part of meeting people off the lines.
However, this story does not end there. I put the episode out of my head, and was back on the same line a couple of weeks later, also on a hot Saturday afternoon. Again, I was connected to the same dude. I wasn't sure at first, but I recognized his voice, and then he again said that he worked for the phone company. I don't think that he knew that I was the same guy. I told him that he had previously agreed to hook up with me, and never showed. He apologized, and said that he had an emergency that could not wait. But Keith said that he was free this afternoon. I knew that I was taking a chance, but I figured that I had nothing better to do that afternoon, so I once again went after some "straight" cock. He gave me a different location, and this time the truck was right there.
I wasn't nervous before I saw the phone truck, because I honestly didn't expect him to be there. My heart started to beat very quickly, as I locked my car, and walked over to the truck. I looked around, and from behind the truck, Keith stepped out to meet me. He was a short, sexy Irish guy, wearing his telephone company uniform. He had a cocky grin that showed a macho attitude. He glared at me and told me to follow him. No hand shakes, no introductions. Just "Follow me." I had thought that I was going to suck him off in the van, but he walked in the opposite direction across the street. I followed, checking out his sexy ass in his black work pants. Again the streets were very quiet, as most people were at the beach or just anywhere to be out of the heat. Keith stopped at an alleyway between two apartment buildings. He adjusted his work pants, and turned around to wait for me to catch up.
Again, he smirked his arrogant grin at me, and said, "I have the key for the basement in this building. It's where the phone boxes are. Wait till I walk in and then you come in after". I thought about turning around and running back to my car, but I had a hard on and I knew that there was no way I was going to back out now. I followed down the alleyway and saw the entrance to the basement. The padlock was undone and I opened the door and my eyes had to adjust to the darkness on that hot sunny afternoon. I then saw him standing next to me. He locked the door from an inside latch. The only light was coming from the bared windows up above exposing the sun from street level. Keith took my hand and lead me to a milk crate in the middle of the floor. He told me to sit.
I don't know if he had other cock suckers on that crate before, or if he put it there especially for me. He stood over me and asked if I liked young guys. I said yes. He told me that was good because he liked to be sucked off by older guys. I looked up at him as he removed his work belt and then lowered his work pants to reveal a hard on in his piss stained white jockey shorts. The jockey shorts came next and I was looking at a rock hard, pre cum leaking, six inch boner. Keith stepped forward and I swallowed his hard cock. He fucked my face, and I was able to take it with a minimum of difficulty. I liked his attitude and his dick. After five minutes he shot off in my mouth with no warning. It was a bitter tasting load, but I swallowed every drop. When I tried to pull my mouth off, he told me to keep sucking. He did not get completely soft and soon was rock hard again.
My mouth was getting tired, and he let me lick his balls for a while. I think that he could sense that I wasn't into another long blow job, and he eventually softened up some and then pulled out of my mouth. He zipped up and we were on our way. He called me that fall and I met him one more time. Same kind of scene. But there is one more guy that I want to tell you about.
My hottest meeting from the phone lines was a guy who was not that attractive. He was an average looking Brooklyn guy, in his late twenties, with a bit of a beer belly, and a slightly receding hairline. But he had attitude. He came on the party line at about four o'clock PM one Saturday afternoon, saying that he was looking for a guy in Brooklyn to suck his cock. I volunteered. Vinny told me to meet him on Coney Island Avenue and Avenue H. He described his car, and told me to be there in fifteen minutes. He did not ask much about me. I asked him where we would do it, and he told me he had a place. I saw a rather rough looking Italian guy sitting in a beat up twenty year old Chevy. I walked over to ask if he was Vinny. Before I could identify myself, he ordered me to get in his car. I guess he figured out who, or at least what I was.
I got in on the passenger side and sat down in the filthy old car. The handle was broken and there appeared to be dirty, fast food bags and containers strewn all over the old car. He drove for two blocks, and told me to take my cock out. I didn't think that my cock was going to be involved, but I followed his orders and exposed myself. He said good and told me to put it away. I did. Then he opened his pants and told me to go down on him. I protested that I couldn't give him a blow job in broad daylight on the busy Brooklyn streets, but he told me to just keep my head down and to suck! I sucked his dick right in the car while he was driving. I started to get into it and was bobbing my head up and down. I didn't realize that he was stopped at a red light, and he slammed my head with his two hands onto his prick. He told me to keep my fuckin' head down and called me a stupid faggot.
I cannot tell you how long the sucking went on, as I was totally disoriented with my head buried in his crotch as he drove up Avenue J, with many cars all around us. Vinny was getting off on having a faggot blow him right in a public place. But his old Chevrolet was very big, and if I kept my head down, no one would see me. He told me that he lived with a woman and was going to fuck her later that night. I was totally turned on by his dominating, straight attitude, and told him during one break that I wish that I could get him naked and lick his ass. He told me that I would do whatever the fuck that he wanted me to do. And he was right.
The blow job went on for what seemed like a long time, when I realized that the car had come to a stop. Vinny had parked on a side street and asked me if I wanted to finish him off. I said yes, and he asked me how badly I wanted his cum. I told him very much. He asked me how much money I had with me. I had learned to carry little cash with me when going to meet strangers for sex. All I had was twenty dollars and my drivers license. I told him, and he said it would cost me the twenty if I wanted his cum. I agreed, and he told me to put the twenty on the back-seat where he could see it. I obliged. I then continued to suck him on the quiet residential side street in Brooklyn. He was getting close and told me to take my mouth off. He started to jerk himself off with my mouth licking his shaft He kept asking if I wanted his cum. I said that I did. His body stiffened and I tried to suck his cock back in my mouth, but he kept jerking off until he shot his load in his hand.
My face was right alongside his cock and cum filled hand, when he grabbed my head with his clean hand and rubbed his cum all over my face with his other hand, He wiped all his cum in my hair and face, and cleaned the rest off on my shirt. He started laughing. I did not know what to think. He buttoned up and started driving his car again. He asked me if I had any tissues to clean my face with. I said no and asked him if he had any in the car. He started laughing again and said "No. That would be too convenient for you." The car came to a stop and he told me to get out of the car. I protested that my car was parked five blocks away.
"Too bad faggot," he said. "I have to pick up my girlfriend now. Get out" I could tell that I had better leave. I opened the door and was not completely out of the car, when he stepped on the gas and I half fell out onto the street. I could hear him laughing and say, "You got what you deserve, you faggot."
Luckily, there was no one who saw me fall out of his car, and I did have a couple of tissues in my pocket to partially wipe off my face. But I did have to walk through the streets of Brooklyn with Vinnie's cum on my face, back to my car. I cannot tell you how many times I have jerked off to that day, and in my fantasies, I got to get Vinnie naked, and I got to lick his ass.
Please let me know if you liked this story and if want you to hear more. SykQuinn@aol.com.