The Little Ghost Pt 4 Friday: Mid Afternoon at the Dirty Bookstore
This is a real account of my first visit to what claimed to be the "World's Largest Adult Bookstore" in the capital city of an oh so conservative Southern state. It was back when I wore the youthful armor of invincibility, instead of condoms. All things considered, I was lucky in my ignorance--don't tempt fate, play safe.
The building was huge--it had once-upon-a-time been a sizable department store--there were three ways into the bookstore from the alley: down a set of steps and into the basement, through a street level door, or up a short flight of steps to what was presumably the upper floor. I'd never been to a three story dirty bookstore--I was duly impressed!
I decided to go in the upper door and work my way from the top down, as I did so, I caught motion from the corner of my eye; when I glanced that way, I saw a whiteboy on his knees behind the dumpster blowing a very dark skinded brotha; it looked like a good one too--the whiteboy was finger fucking dude, and dude was looking weak kneed--I came to the top step and went in.
The entryway was brightly and harshly lit, presumably so their security cam could get a good image of the patrons as they entered. I proceeded into the place proper; checkout clerk toward the front--this was ground level in the front--various and sundry "adult" items: videos, bondage gear, sex toys etc. I moved further in and saw the doorways to the movie booths, and continued to look around. I must have looked a little bewildered, because, a kid detached himself from a chat with the clerk and approached me,
"Is this your first time here?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," I answered matching his tone and volume; I took the opportunity to check him out. He was young, probably just out of high school, and cute. He was around 5' 8" and skinny in that twink way; clear tanned skin, brown eyes, curly mop of light brown hair. He wore a snug T-shirt and light tan shorts low on his hips; plaid boxer showed above them.
"This is the "respectable" part of the store," he continued, eying me up and down, "Most of the action is downstairs; the second floor has mostly movie booths with glory holes, and the basement has a locker room, a `Turkish bath' and private booths big enough to get comfortable with someone . . . If you want . . ."
"Could you show me around a little?" I asked, picking up his hint.
"Sure," he piped.
He led the way thru the door to the stairway; it was less and less well lit--I could see movement further down the stairwell, guys clinching in the corners and one or more blow jobs in progress--gotta love the Bible belt, I reflected, the wildest sex shops are all there!
The kid led me into the movie booth area on the second floor--it reeked of disinfectant, sweat, and stale cum--there was a change kiosk at the entrance, and I noted there were baskets with lots of lube and condoms: the kid grabbed some of the lube as he led me back to the booths. The usual guys were in evidence--glory hole whores, bored "straight" guys, sluts (like me), and pathetic old faggots trying to hang on to their youth (too fat or wrinkled or bald for the kids' styles they tried to wear, or too pervy, you know the type)--as the kid led me into a booth, latched the door and dropped a couple tokens; the screen lit up to a gay sex scene,
"Whenever you come into a booth on this floor, make sure you drop some tokens in the machine if you close the door, or the staff will come and boot you out," he informed me seriously.
"Gotcha," I responded. I noted a 1' X 2' framed opening into the next booth; there was movement in there too.
At the same time, the kid, moving rapidly, had his pants down, and had opened mine, and was sucking me for all he was worth; I looked down and noted that his @ 5" prong was straining upward. As soon as I was hard, he stood and ripped open a tube of lube and stroked it onto my dick; he turned his back, I bent my knees and acquired my target--his hole was pre-lubed--and pushed in one steady thrust.
"Uh," he sighed as I bottomed out, "Fuck me."
I began pumping and he started beating his meat--I noticed eyes and a dark face watching from glory hole--I realized I was going to be a living dildo for this kid; he needed his ass plugged to get off. Oh well,' I thought, I'll do my part--there's plenty else around for me to get off.' Sure enough, the kid busted a nut, and slid off my dick. He pulled up his pants, said "Thanks", handed me a "Wet Nap" packet, gave me a peck on the lips and was gone. My manhood was out and hard; before I could close the door, a black kid slid in and latched it.
"Do you suck dick?" he asked, directly but politely.
"Yes," I said.
"Will you suck mine?" again very politely.
"Sure," I said as I sat on the corner seat and dropped a couple more tokens. This black boy was long and slim and dark skinded, he dropped his pants and pushed down his tighty-whiteys revealing seven slim inches of ebony. I started sucking, and he started pumping--gently, trying not to gag me--my fingers were still slick, so I gently messaged his tight bung and then gently started finger fucking him; he ooh'd and aah'd and then said,
"I'm about to cum," then asked politely, "Can I shoot it in your mouth?"
"Mm hmm," I hummed as I nodded.
"Here it comes . . . uh, uh, uh."
His dick spasmed and his body jerked as spurt after spurt of very sweet semen pumped into my mouth. I swallowed and then carefully milked out the last of his nut, and cleaned his dick.
"Thank you," he said as soon as he caught his breath.
I stood and he kissed me passionately licking some traces of his cum from inside my mouth.
"Shut the door as you leave," I instructed.
"Thanks again," he said and did as I asked.
I used the "Wet Nap" to clean off my man root; I paused for a moment to catch my breath, stood then exited the booth.
As I did so, another black guy, kinda cute, dressed in thug gear, with a head rag and a gold tooth in front, gave me a "please" look as he cocked his head to the side and grabbed his crotch; I nodded and followed him into his booth. He stuck his arm out and shook his head as I started to close the door--he wanted to make sure somebody saw a whiteboy bobbin' on his knob--and then pushed down the front of his pants and boxers, and produced an enormous meat log that would have made Hickory Farms jealous--
"Damn," I said as started to kneel, but he steered me around so I was once again on the corner seat--I realized that gave any potential spectators a better view--and stretched to get my mouth around the end of the dick; he tweaked my nipples through my shirt, so to give him better access, I pulled the front of it up and flipped it over the back of my neck. I returned to his dick; it felt like I was trying to jam a tennis ball into my mouth, but he let me adjust to it; I slid my hand under his sac and messaged his perineum; I worked the head and then licked and mouthed and nibbled the shaft from tip to base and took his smallish hairless nut sac into my mouth; his grunts of pleasure me gave me all the encouragement I needed; I glanced out the door--I counted 5 spectators, plus two more in the booth straight across, and at least 1 guy watching through the glory hole--a good show so far.
As I worked his sac and into his crotch, homey stroked his huge meat-cicle; he pushed my head back to it, and I anticipated another mouthful, but just as I tasted the sharply tart first bit of ejaculate, he pulled out of my mouth, and shot five thick heavy ropes of cum across my face and chest; with the last jerk of his body, he squeezed and milked the last of his nut to the end of his dick and shoved it back into my mouth. I cleaned it off, and with one last shuddering breath, he put it away. Instead of leaving, however, he used his fingers to push the cum on my face to my mouth, which I avidly slurped up. With a last swipe at my chin, I Figured he was gone, but what he did next almost made me cum in my drawers; he pulled me to my feet, then lowered himself down and lapped the sperm from my belly and chest and fed it to me with his tongue. Three tongue loads later, he finally licked the inside of my mouth drew back, gave me a cocky smirk, and strutted away. A couple of the spectators looked at me hopefully, I shook my head and mumbled "maybe later" and shut and latched the door.
A hand from the glory hole jingled some tokens; saying thanks, I took them and dropped a few in the slot. I gazed mindlessly at the screen for a few minutes, and then felt hands begin to message my lap. I looked down to see small, slim brown hands rubbing me. Long skinny arms led back to the hole thru the wall. He tugged at my waist, so I stood; the pair of brown hands started undoing my jeans, they were presently joined by a pair of white hands to yank them down below my knees. My dick had barely started to go flaccid, and now it was right back at full mast as four hands and two mouths marauded over my nether regions. I was thoroughly enjoying this lavish attention, when one of the pair stated in a breathy whisper,
"I want you to fuck my boyfriend's ass," and pressed a packet of lube in my hand.
"Okay," I whispered back, and stepped back a little to lube my tool.
In short order, a small, beautifully rounded, firm brown butt presented itself, perfectly framed by the finished opening. I gently drug a finger up the crack and felt the lightly moistened entrance; then, after settling the tip of my pride and joy at its lip, I took hold of both of his hips, and thrust steadily in until I bottomed out. I didn't move for a second, enjoying the intense heat of his innards on my dick; my bottom boy rocked his ass slightly to urge me to get on with it--after a beat to make sure he understood who was the dick-er and who was the dick-ee, I began, slowly building to a pleasant fuck pace. Almost immediately I felt my orgasm start to build; I realized that I'd had four pretty intense sexual encounters--Luis's blow job, the almost fuck, the black kid and the just completed thug encounter--with out busting a nut, so this was NOT going to be a languid fuck, to say the least. To that point, I slid my hand down and found his very hard slim 8 inches of joy; I was only able to stroke it a few times, before my hand was replaced by his boyfriend's mouth. Almost instantly, I felt the boy's ass tense up, and I knew he was feeding his nut to his boyfriend. I started to pick up the pace--I didn't want to be blue balled again--when white hands stopped my thrusts, the brown butt pulled off my dick, and was replaced in the opening with an equally cute, and perfectly matched white butt. I inserted myself and quickly resumed the fuck pace I'd had before, this time when I reached around, I found 5 slim inches and was only able to stroke it for a minute or so before his blackboy started blowing him. This time, however, I was much closer to popping my load, and just as he tensed up and fed his boyfriend, I tensed up, pulled back and started to nut on his hole, in his crack, and then pushed myself all the way back in, fucking in and out a few times.
I pulled out, bent down and quickly nipped at the ass cheeks; in seconds the white ass was replaced by its owners face--he kissed me and then reached for my still firm dick and tugged it towards him. I stood up and my already happy dick was made ecstatic when it was engulfed by his very hot mouth. He licked and suck all the cum and slime and ass-juice off my spear in seconds, and after a few idle sucks he relinquished it to me. I put it away and then squatted down to look through the hole; as I watched, the blackboy was just finishing his feast of my spooge from his whiteboy's ass.
"Fuckin' hot," I said in a breathy growl.
"Oh yeah," the whiteboy panted, "meet us out back in a few, please," both kissed me deeply, giving me the delightful lingering essence of our spooge mixture.
"Okay," I responded thoughtfully, and adjourned the booth.
I was spent. I moved, a bit unsteady, out of the booth area, and found the restroom. Once in there, I became aware of just how much I smelled of sex. As I was leaving, I saw a menu of services with a schedule of fees; the services offered were very similar those of a bathhouse, and it was relatively cheap too. I was thinking of getting a room, but first I needed to go outside and clear my head; I suddenly felt overwhelmed and claustrophobic. I headed for the backdoor and out to the alley; the fresh air hit me like a plank, warm and humid after icy cold A/C--WHAM! I took the few steps to a patio that acted as a smoking area: I don't smoke, but it was a convenient place to wait for my cute little couple.
They emerged from the basement level door, chatting with each other, as I looked at them I was stunned; they were nearly perfect photographic negatives of each other: they appeared to be the exact same height about 5' 7"; one's skin the rich dark brown of mahogany; the other's was the stark white of alabaster; each had his hair in identical braids, one jet black, the other natural platinum blond. Their facial structure was similar enough, but for the skin contrast they could be mistaken for brothers; brows, cheek bones, jaw lines, noses and ears all closely similar; their clothing however, was where this primary/secondary color contrast really played out. The black kid, called Alec, wore red high-top Chuck Taylor's; the white kid, called Zack, wore contrasting green ones; Alec wore white skinny jeans, and Zack wore black. Alec wore a tight yellow "A & F" t-shirt; Zack wore an equally snug purple t-shirt that had a silhouette of a horse and buggy and read "I'm Amish, don't fuck with me" in white. Each carried a small gym bag; Alec's was pink and Zack's was light-green/chartreuse. As they neared, I saw that their eyes where a matching hazel; their contacts were exact contrast since Alec's eyes were brown and Zack's were blue.
Each introduced the other, and I introduced myself. We chatted amiably for a quarter hour--when I asked about their contrasting appearance, Alec explained--
"We met when we both modeled for a photographer," he said in an un adorned west coast baritone, "he did a whole series of photo sets he called "Contrasts". Initially he had me with a straight whiteboy, who really couldn't relax into the poses--semi-nude with a gayboi just wasn't for him--when Zach showed up; we "blended" as the photographer put it. We even did erotic nudes for him. It was fun, so we just kept doing it."
"You look really hot together," I stated, "and separately for that matter."
They both burbled thanks and complimented my appearance in return. We chatted idly for a few more minutes, when Zack came to the point,
"We would like it if you would come and party with us later on," his voice was that lilting Southern drawl of the "upper crust"; I bet his folks just loved the idea of their son being gay to begin with, and being gay with a "colored" boy from Cali was just icing-on-the-cake.
I considered the offer; as a rule, I try to avoid three-ways--they're fun, but it can be tricky to get all three satisfied--that all three of us were more or less versatile helped, but I asked,
"Can I bring a friend?" and then added, "He's hot and super hung--"
"Is he a soldier too?"
"Yep," I said.
"Black, white; "straight" (air quotes) gay?" the query continued.
"Black, gay, short with a tight body, and cute in a gangsta way; he loves to top, gives hella good head, and so far can go again and again," I said anticipating and answering further questions.
"Sure," they answered in unison. They told me where they lived and both gave me their numbers the old-fashioned way, and I gave them mine; we set a time for early that evening and said our goodbyes. Only after they'd left did I happen to think that maybe the Ghost wouldn't wanna. We'd cross that bridge when we came to it. In the meantime, I needed to clean up a little, and the basement floor beckoned.
Just before I entered, the Ghost called once again; the missing hadn't showed, but regardless the rest of the Company would be released at 1800. It was just shy of 1600; I explained where I was and offered the idea of having some fun with the boys later--he thought it a capital idea--and had to hang up.
I went in the door; there was a small lobby area with a check-in desk and a seedy looking chubby white guy, with thinning hair and a sparse, uneven goatee;
"How can I help you?" he stated in a bored tone.
"I'd like a booth an--"
"There are none available at this time," he said in the same tone.
"Then how `bout a locker and a towel?", I proposed.
"The towel charge is $5, the locker is $4, no locks are provided and we are not responsible lost or stolen items; please read and follow all rules, please keep your towel on when not in the steam room, bath, or in a private both." He wheezed in a dull monotone, and continued, "The City News does not condone anonymous sexual contact between persons of the . . . "
I stopped listening, grabbed my towel and went thru the entrance to the locker area. Once in, I located a locker and stripped--because of the outside door and the entrance the area were in close proximity (read raid-able) the locker room was a no play zone--I headed for the showers. Steam and the sound of splashing water greeted me as I entered the anteroom to the showers; there was a bench attached to a sort of curtain wall with a row of hooks and a couple of towels already hung up; I hung up my towel grabbed a wash rag and a hotel sized soap and entered the showers proper.
It was a long room with shower clusters down the center of the room and showerheads at intervals along the walls. I quickly got under the water and washed up, and then let the hot water pound on my shoulders and back; a couple other patrons strode past me, the first was an older white gentleman (mid to late 50's maybe 60) of the type I'm very fond of--neatly trimmed gray hair and close cropped beard, gray chest hair proudly worn on a trim and well maintained body--he was who he was and was damn proud of it. I acknowledged him with a nod and vowed I would make contact with him for a later date; he smiled and continued on, his outline dissolved into the steam. A couple totally into each other passed, and a pervert looking type followed them closely--I didn't wanna know--then my heart nearly stopped--a dream entered the shower and took his place at the shower directly in front of me.
He was a whiteboy, not long out of high school, tall as me, with broad shoulders, defined chest and a narrow waist; he was smooth skinned and well built, but lightly muscled, more like a dancer than a gym rat or a construction dude. His hair was deep auburn and formed a wreath about his face--knit cap hair--and big soulful brown eyes; he was tanned but not enough to hide the spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. I adjudged, from the scars on his knees and shins, and the ones I could see on his elbows and forearms, him to be a skater; he had a mischievous little smile that alternated with a full on grin as he brazenly looked me over. I kindly turned around and showed him my additional "assets", then turned back and just as brazenly checked his package; what I saw made me lick my lips--seven plus soft, succulent inches grew from his cleanly shaven pubes and hung tantalizingly over a lovely hairless sac--he turned around and gave me a view of his pronounced, but perfectly fitting ass. I felt drool pool behind my lower lip.
"Can you wash my back for me?" he asked most naturally.
"Sure," I piped back, after a brief search for my voice.
I stepped across, and with my soapy rag, explored the broad, tanned, well muscled back of this gorgeous hunk of boy flesh; as I did so, he suggested that I wash the rest of him--and he would return the favor--what was I supposed to do? I made especially sure that his dick and balls, his crotch, and his ass were exceptionally clean--one can't be too careful--judging from the reaction of his dick, he appreciated my thoroughness!
Then our roles reversed; he may have been young, but the boy knew how to be sensuous. His hands were large and strong and he knew how to use them to take possession of what he wanted--just by the way he washed my shoulders and pecs, I knew I was gonna get FUCKED (all caps in my head too)--he was as thorough as I had been, so that when he turned me around to rinse me off, our very hard cocks whacked against each other. I looked down at what made us boys and saw that his was well over 10" when hard and had the girth of a beer bottle. When I looked back up, he drew my face to his and kissed me with passion.
"Let's take this to my room," he murmured, and then added, "I don't mind putting on a show, but I really want you to myself."
I nodded; before I could say anything further, some really loud moans and yowls erupted from the steam obscured far end of the shower room; the older man from before emerged from the steam headed for the exit, ruefully shaking his head. We followed in short order, and all three of us dried off together.
"I'm generally easy going," the older gent said in a Tennessee twang, "but there are other clubs for that sort of thing," he gestured back towards the shower with a look of disgust, and another series of moans and yowls sounded. I hadn't been curious before, and now I would actively avoid any thought of what was going on in there. We dried and wrapped up in silence, and headed out of the shower area--I'd find the older guy another time--I was feeling the itch, and my new friend was gonna scratch it.
"What's your name, by-the-way?" I asked, and then added, "I'd like to know what name moan while you fuck me silly."
"Nick," he said with a grin, "and you are . . . other than sexy motherfucker I'm gonna fuck silly?"
"John, and I can hardly wait for that scene to happen," I responded.
"Here we are," Nick announced, and unlocked the door and entered.
I followed closely and shut the door; the room was 10' x 10' with a large flat screen set into the wall with an arrow pointing to the video slot; there was a massage table, a lounge chair and a futon couch; on a small side table sat a short stack of towels, and massage and fuck supplies--I noted the small basket of condoms was layered with dust--I turned back to face Nick. He yanked my towel off and tossed it away, he then walked around me in an appraising look,
"I'm too horny now," he said, "But what do you about experimenting with bondage?"
"I want you to fuck me," I responded, "If you are talking about torture--hell fuck no--but tying me up or being sling fucked--maybe; `specially if it's just you to start with I think about it--for now though, fuck me."
"Okay," he said, as he dropped his towel and grabbed some lube. "We'll skip the preliminaries and go straight to the main event."
We briefly kissed; he turned me around and bent me over the end of the massage table; he briefly tongued my entry as he slicked his boy, and then standing up rubbed the head up and down my crack; acquired his target and slid in one long thrust. He bottomed out; I felt his ball sac bump mine--I reached between our legs and stroked it and went a little further back and fingered his hole--he whispered,
"Damn, you wanna make this fun doncha?"
"Life is short," I groaned, "O Nick that's good stuff."
He began to slowly pump--"I haven't cum in a week, so this might not last long"--he grunted; then added, "I not gonna cum in you--when I have a big load I like to see it shoot."
"Then put me on my back when you get close," I responded, "I love seeing a top nut on me." And then I began to moan a mantra, "O Nick, fuck me baby," and "Mm baby, O Nick that's good."
Nick's only verbal response was to grunt, "Uh, uh," at the bottom of every stroke. Almost automatically, I bent at the waist and pushed my ass back harder and harder into the onslaught; in response, Nick was pumping harder and faster,
"We're gonna have to change up positions real quick," he gasped as he bottomed out and held there, "I'm getting close."
"K, let's do it," I responded from a coherent spot within the deep fuck haze I was in; he pulled all the way out, I turned around and lay back on the table, lifted my legs and pulled my knees to my shoulders. Nick reentered me with a minimum of fuss and resumed pumping my ass like a sewing machine--I had been stroking my dick lazily when on my feet--now my right hand resumed said stroking in earnest; my left hand grabbed him at the back of his head, and my heels spurred him on--suddenly he pulled out and leaned back a little, gave his cock a five or six blindingly fast strokes--and literally sprayed cum all over the table around my head, across my face and all over my body! His dick and body were still in spasm, as he shoved himself back into me and resumed fucking; only a few strokes and I was there--my first wad of cock snot hit my own chin--the subsequent five blasts made a stripe up to it; Nick continued to fuck into my ass as I lay there gasping, after about a minute, he pulled out again, stepped up to my head and unloaded a second load of semen into my gasping mouth.
We panted like dogs on an August afternoon in New Orleans. When I recovered enough to speak, I stated the obvious,
"That was one hell of a fuck," I said in a tired monotone.
"I never came twice like that before," Nick stated, "I've gone this long before, but that never happened--fuck that was goooood," he drew out the last word.
He sat down on the futon, and tossed me a towel; I wiped the sperm off of my face and body. "I'm gonna need another shower," I concluded.
He looked at me a little glassy eyed and said,
"I hate to say this, amigo," he said in a dull voice, "but I need a nap before I go on; come back in a little and we'll do this again."
"Okay," I said, mildly disappointed, but oh well; I wrapped my towel around me, and took the dirty towels and tossed them into the laundry bin in the hall and headed back to the showers.
The showers were silent when I returned, and there were no towel in evidence other than the stack of regular sized towels on a small table that were supplied for drying off. I went in, and walked all the way to the back wall of the shower room; off on both sides there were alcoves that held eight showerheads and a central cluster. I went into the alcove on the right and started a couple of the showers to make a little steam and to warm it back up--walking around in only a towel in cold A/C lends literal meaning to `chillin'--I had goose bumps and hard nipples.
I stood under the hot water for some time letting it pound my shoulders and back; I must have zoned out, because I was surprised to hear another shower go on directly across from me, and was pleased to see the hunk of man-flesh that was settling under the flow. Initially I thought he was Latino, but his skin had a more coppery tone and was smooth in that hairless way that Asians and Native Americans have--so, I figured him to be an American Indian--and judging from the "Sioux" tattoo across his upper abs, and his longish straight black hair, I was probably right. He was about my age, and he was big, taller than me and strongly built--like somebody who did hard physical work, not a gym rat--his face was chiseled, and his eyes were a pale blue/green. I took this all in and then checked his package--long, fat and circumcised, with a modest black bush at its base and over a compact, nearly hairless scrotum.
He was carefully washing his equipment and unabashedly eying me; a slight smirk crossed his face and he stepped across the space between us. With a smile, he placed his hands on my shoulders, and guided me to my knees in front of his glorious 8 r so inches of wood. I licked the head as I hefted it in my hand; solid and heavy, it was like a leaden rod wrapped in silk and velvet; I licked up and down the shaft and lapped and sucked his hairless sac into my mouth, and then licked his perineum. He pulled back and started fucking my mouth--clamping onto my head like a basketball--after all too brief a time, he let go and spun around, and bent to spread his cheeks and shove his hairless hole onto my eagerly waiting tongue. I lapped at his rear entry for only two or three minutes, when he pulled away and stood up; he turned around and pulled me to my feet as he turned me to the tiled wall. Knowing what was coming next, I slid my face slightly down the wall, spread my legs and thrust spread ass back toward him. After briefly raking the tip of impaling tool up and down my crack, he hooked the lip of my entry and slid in with a sigh. I moaned and jiggled in a little dance to adjust my innards to accommodate his tool. After a brief pause, he began to fuck me, I moaned softly at the bottom of each plunge. I was hard, but knew I couldn't come, so i gave myself over to the joy of being fucked by a big dick. Gradually, he built to a strident pace, and started to shudder--he gave three hard deep thrusts, and held as deep in me as he could--I knew he was unloading as I felt him cling to my back. After his orgasm subsided, he gingerly withdrew his hypersensitive dick from my chute. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away. I remained against the tile for a moment and then returned to the shower and sluiced myself out, washed up once again and headed back to the locker room. I needed another break.
I lotioned my abused entry, and got dressed. I tossed my towel into the basket and walked out into the alley. Once there, I sat on one of the chairs and checked my phone; it was 1755, and I had a missed call--I listened to the message--it was from Luis, telling me he would call me later as he'd gotten side tracked. Thank the gods,' I said to myself, teens are so full of . . . energy and other stuff.'
After a few more minutes, the Ghost called--free at last!--he was going home to change back into civvies, and he'd meet me at the bookstore, and instructed me to wait in booth 17, he'd be less than half-an-hour. I told him I was gonna duck across the road and hit a burger joint.
There were a few cuties in the place--they knew where I'd come from--and lots of eying and ogling all around. I ate and used the restroom and headed back to the back of the store. I loitered in the alley for a few and then headed up the stairs.
I'll be posting the next segment soon and I'll try to complete the three story arcs I have running (A Very Good Day, in beginnings and interracial, and Danny and Me in Adult/Youth) some time before the vernal equinox (March 20-21). Thanks for reading.
As always, questions, comments and criticism are welcome send them to John at thelilghost06_nthesarge@yahoo.com Hope I hear from you soon. John